Changes
by EchoingDaydreams
Summary: Stiles returns to Beacon Hills after being changed into a vampire. He is helped by a new friend, Adeleide, who possess some major witchy powers. He deals with being back after the love of his life left, and his new body/appetite, all while hiding it from his friends and family.
1. Chapter 1

The bite was nothing as Stiles expected. It was cold and sharp, like slick, thin icicles stabbing into his neck. A throbbing suddenly burst through his body. He shook with pain. This wasn't right. Something wasn't right.

The night's events lay locked behind a brick wall in his mind. He couldn't remember much, only that he loved Derek. And that he wanted the bite; he wanted to be with him completely, equally, and forever.

As glass breaking, memories like water began to flood his head. Derek, he'd gone somewhere. He wasn't there any more. A loud thud, like a heartbeat, pulsed through him, causing him to remember.

Derek, leaving. Permanently.

Then, smashing of a glass cabinet, and the emptying of his father's bottle of Jack Daniels. The rest of the night was a blur, mixed with the constant need for Derek and what it meant to be with him. Now all he knew was pain. A burning fire surging through his body with such force he was sure it would rip him apart. His muscles twisted and contracted within his skin. His bones broke and remade themselves. Was this the change? Had Derek turned him? Why was it that when he thought of Derek, all that he would feel was a burning ache in his chest? This couldn't be the Change. _What was happening?_

Stiles sat up.

He opened his eyes. The pain wasn't there. It was almost as if it had never been there. It was a distant memory, from years ago. Centuries. He pulled the blankets off his body, and placed his cold feet on the cold floor. He hung his head in his hands. His hair, now long and shaggy, covering his face and ears, curled around the wrinkles in his palms.

"Another day Stiles." He sat up, turned his neck violently to the left, then right, clicking it loudly. Today was the day that he went home.

He stood up quickly, and walked towards his dresser. The hotel was sterile, and echoing in its sadness. He was amazed that the sign out front didn't just say 'We specialize in prostitutes.' He pulled a black t-shirt over his head, covering his naked frame. He found his jeans on the floor next to his jacket. He hopped slightly when they reached his hips, pulling them on more comfortably. Next he slung his jacket on over a grey hoodie, and pulled the collar up as to hide his scarred neck.

Two months. Two months since he had been gone. Two months as a missing teenager.

Two months as a vampire.

He'd seen his own face plastered over the TV for a few weeks, the typical milk-box kid. God, he couldn't believe how much he'd grown up within the eight weeks that he'd been gone. Fifty-six days since he'd left. Fifty-six days of praying that his father hadn't been completely destroyed with worry and guilt and sorrow. Praying that he hadn't given up all hope of Stiles ever returning.

His backpack was stuffed in the dresser, along with the two other t-shirts he had constantly worn throughout his stay away from home. Apparently, Op-Shops were there for those who needed to buy things on the cheap, and not just for iPhone wielding hipsters who could instagram. Three separate wallets, all whom previously belonged to different, _recently_ deceased owners, sat in the backpack. He'd been able to collect a total of $6000 through pocketing cash, clearing out bank accounts and maxing out credit cards. None his own, but since he was technically homeless and now had the means in which to access these things, he no longer saw the need to abide to local law and morals. What was the point? He was dead.

It would take him a short two hours to sprint to Beacon Hills. He was well over fifteen towns away, but that was just another perk of being what he was. He grabbed the hotel key, and left the room. He dropped it off at the front desk, which was manned by an elderly, fat, pimply bloke with a greying beard.

"Alright," He said simply to Stiles. Stiles didn't reply. He no longer said much. As he stepped outside, the fresh air of a 7pm Tuesday night greeted him. He pulled his grey hoodie, which he wore under his jacket, over his head. Hopefully no one would think twice about him as he walked along.

Unfortunately, that was not to be the case.

As he reached the local park, a familiar puff of red hair skipped towards him. Adeleide. She wore what she always seemed to wear, ripped jeans, bare feet, a baggy ripped jumper with a bright yet grubby dress underneath. Her cat Tonks sat on her shoulders as she approached him. He could smell her a mile off.

"Todays the big day then?"

"Yes,"

"Looking forward to going home?"

"Not really, no,"

"Mm, well, I'm looking forward to meeting all these amazing people you told me about,"

"Nuh-uh. If you even begin to think that you're coming along for the ride, you are very, very sadly mistaken," Stiles said, stopping in his tracks to re-iterate his point by using very vivid hand movements. It was only Adeleide who seemed to be able to bring out the real Stiles these days. Her complete annoying attitude brought it out of him. Now he knew how Derek must have felt.

A flash of memory burst through his mind, causing his knees to feel weak, his lungs to loose any breath they once held, and his heart to squeeze tightly into his spine. He closed his eyes, and willed the panic attack symptoms to just stop. _Please, dear god, just stop_.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Have you fed?"

"I picked up an old lady on the way, along with a five year old. Of course I've fed!"

"No need to be snappy," She replied, smiling stupidly. She enjoyed this far too much. Tonks on the other hand sat happily on her shoulders, sleeping with one eye open. The old thing had scared the living daylights out of Stiles (and yes, he meant that ironically.) The damned thing jumped out at him while he'd been sleeping on a park bench. Adeleide was soon to follow. It seemed he'd never get rid of the annoying duo.

_Oh well,_ he found himself subconsciously thinking. _It might not be that bad._

"C'mon, it's a two hour run. Why not have the company?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Adeleide practically jumped up and down at the prospect.

"So I get to finally meet everyone! Even Scott!"

"Wow, wow. Calm down. Maybe, it'll depend on how well it all goes down. Remember, I was missing for two months,"

"They'll get over it,"

"Oh yeah, see it in the stars do you?"

"Shuttup, the stars aren't out yet."

Adeleide pointed upwards, drawing Stiles attention to the fact that the sky was completely covered in cloud. Yip, that was her answer. Nothing logical. Then again, Stiles should be used to the illogical by now. The supernatural seemed to have a whole new set of rules that he was still getting used to.

"Alright, we'll head off then," Stiles said, tightening the straps on his backpack.

"Cool. One second," She replied. He stepped back, and waited. She closed her eyes, and outstretched her arms so as that she appeared as if on a crucifix. Her hands hung limp in the air, her head looking upwards. She took in a deep breath, and suddenly it was as if the world stopped. The very essence of the trees and grass that surrounded her began to fade, and seep out towards her. Though it fought her magick, it couldn't be kept to itself. Steadily, the grass turned a brown grey, the trees leaves turned brittle and the very bark on the trees leaking all form of life until they turned a sickly white, like bones. Adeleide then opened her mouth and uttered a screech so nightmarish it made Stiles skin crawl. She opened her eyes, and they were pitch black, yet seemed to be staring straight towards him.

She uttered a spell in an exasperated, death like whisper, '_Cursum tenere solem loquor canum coram me qui non habet potestatem mittere sanguinem, sed eam_' and then the world began again. She was standing in front of him, a smile spread across her face, Tonks once again sleeping on her shoulders. As if nothing had happened.

_Wonderful_, Stiles thought sarcastically. He nodded though, and they took off, faster than the living eye could detect, on their way back to Beacon Hills.

Stiles walked through the deserted Beacon Hills town center. The moon was now high in the sky, sending soft light over the concreted streets. Stiles and Adeleide walked solemnly, saying nothing. It seemed that Adi was talking to herself, or some weird form only she could see. Either way Stiles was left unaffected. He'd grown used to her habits and supernatural lifestyle. She was almost completely detached from the normal occurrences in a mortal's life. Since she was over a few hundred years old, and a walking portal from this dimension to the next, he didn't really expect her to have any knowledge of the workings of a human's everyday life, and learnt to let her be when she seemed distant. Moments like this allowed him to think. And this was as best a time as any to think about what he was doing. He was back. These streets, he'd walked them in the sunlight as a human. As a boy, pining for Scott's attention, then Lydia's affection, then Derek's everything. God, it was all so different now.

"Did you say something?" Adi suddenly asked, looking towards him with black eyes.

"Nope. Sorry. At least I don't think I did. Maybe I did…" He was loosing track of his thoughts, and when he did, his mouth lead on from where he left off.

"Control, Stiles. Remember, you are still the person you once were. Just control it." and then Adi was off again, eyes distant, conversing in another tongue to someone who wasn't there.

Stiles really couldn't believe how easily he'd allowed himself to slip into this underground world of crazy.

"You had no choice," Adi said.

"Shit, did I-"

"Nope, that one I listened into without meaning to. Sorry. The brain goes where it's needed,"

"Ah, right."

"Hey!" someone yelled out behind them. Stiles stomach dropped. He knew that voice.

"Scott!" Adi yelled out, and ran towards him, arms out. Scott, being a little slow, didn't know what to do, and was quickly enclosed in a tight hug from the girl he'd never met before.

"Wha?... um, I mean… who are you?" Scott asked. He had no shirt on, and was all furry and dog-teethy.

"Oh, I am Adeleide. The City in Australia was named after me, even though they spelt it incorrectly"

"Right…" Scott replied. He looked over towards Stiles. He didn't like the look of this guy. His hood was hooked right over his head, shading his features. He looked tall, slightly bulky, and just, wrong. He gave Scott the creeps.

Scott had seen the two walking down the street while he'd been out on patrol. The new Sheriff had issued a curfew, due to the animal attacks of recent. Scott was to either attack anyone suspicious on site, or scare the hell out of him or her into returning home. Weird guidelines, but Scott had no place to fight against them. It was for the better of the town. And maybe he'd find Stiles.

Stiles took a deep breath, and turned around to face his friend.

"What are you two doing out? You know about the curfew," Scott said, trying to appear tough and scary. This girl, Adeleide and this hodded guy were supernatural. He could smell it in the air, a sickening metallic stench.

"We haven't been in town for a while," Stiles replied quietly.

_I know that voice… _Scott thought. Stiles had changed in many ways since he'd been turned, including his voice, but it turned out some things couldn't be completely changed.

"Well… curfew's ten PM, get back to wherever you're staying…" Scott said, _better yet, get out of town_ he ended in thought.

"Scott… it's me," Stiles said. His head was thumping with the stress running through him. He felt sick to the stomach, and if he were still alive, a solid lining of sweat would be covering his entire body right about now.

"Stop playing games and get back to your motel," Scott replied. His spine was tingling, and a feeling of pure fear was trickling through his system. What was so unnatural about this guy that caused him to naturally want to run. Scott never ran from the heroic thing to do. He'd never leave something like this. Yet, it took everything in him to not turn head and run as fast as he could away from this guy.

"Scott. It's me. It's Stiles," Stiles said, pulling the hood down from his head. Though his hair was longer, and his face more sharp, eyes darker, he was Stiles. Right there, in front of Scott, after two months. Two _fucking _months.

"Stiles?" Scott said, stepping towards him. Any sense of fear suddenly disappeared. All Scott wanted to do was hug Stiles until he stopped breathing. That in itself was unknowingly ironic. The sheer joy that leaped through Scott was enough for him to discard any previous worries about the man who turned out to be Stiles. He was Stiles, Scott's best friend, and he was back. There was nothing else to it.

Scott raced forward and tackled Stiles in a way Stiles could only describe as a dog greeting its owner after a weekend away. Overly happy they whimper, fumble and loose any self-control. That was what had happened to Scott. So, now, both boys were on the hard concrete, hugging it out.

When the first emotion passed, Scott suddenly turned and whacked Stiles right across the face. It caught him so off guard he fell backwards, and blood spurted from a cut lip and broken nose. When he was on the ground, he quickly pulled his nose back in place, making sure he wouldn't have to re-break it as to set it correctly due to his stupid and only sometimes helpful super-fast healing power things.

"What. The. _Fuck!"_ Stiles said, rolling on the floor for extra effect. He could play a normal human easily if he wanted to. He quickly cut his hand whilst he was moving, and let the blood run over his face so as that he looked human, and hurt as a human would.

"You left! You fucking left for no reason. No phone call. Nothing. FOR TWO MOTHER FUCKING MONTHS YOU SHIT HEAD!" Scott yelled.

"It wasn't my fault! Jesus, Scott, that hurt,"

"Where the fuck did you go!"

"I don't know! I don't remember anything!" Stiles lied.

"You what?"

"I can't remember anything. Not since Derek left. Everything's a blank,"

"What?"

"Dude, I can't remember the last two months, alright. I was kidnapped, or I had a momentary split personality thing, or something. All I know, is that I can't remember a damned thing past that day,"

"Nothing?" Scott asked, suddenly concerned.

"Nothing." Stiles was lying through his pointed, venomous teeth. He hoped that Scott wouldn't see through his pathetic excuse, but he also hoped that he would. That he could out right say that he was a blood-sucking vampire who had gone on a blood bender for a month, only to be saved by some weird half dimensional demon witch homeless woman. But that wasn't going to happen.

"Shit. Stiles, I, I didn't know… I couldn't have known. You just suddenly left. One day you were there, then you weren't,"

"Yeah, well. Sorry,"

"Why are you apologizing? It's not your fault you were kidnapped." So, Scott was going to stick with the kidnapping theory.

He turned to Adi, and asked "Were you kidnapped too?"

"Oh, no. I helped Stiles escape." Scott, of course, had no idea how strong of a metaphor Adi was purposely using. Stiles, of course, did. He bit his tongue in annoyance. How in God's name was he going to explain this one away?

"Yeah, Boyd, you heard me right. Stiles is here, with me right now. What do you mean 'Bullshit'? Why would I lie about this?" Scott had already broken the news to Alison and Isaac, and was now on the phone to Boyd and Erica. He was walking the length of his room, back and forth, back and forth. It was driving Stiles insane. Adi had already taken her leave of absence, finding the roof of Scotts house far more enjoyable a place to be. Stiles wished he could join her.

"Hmm, yeah. Just come here, alright?!" Scott finished, hanging up the phone. Soon, everyone who he had hoped to avoid for a least one or two days would be turning up to see him, all within an hour of him returning to Beacon Hills.

_Greeat, _he thought. He pinched his fingers together, and unknowingly made his nail dig so deeply into his own skin he began to bleed. He brought this finger up to his lips, and drank the blood down. It healed within a few seconds.

"So, is Derek here?" Stiles asked.

"Derek? Oh, no. He left the same day as you. We haven't heard from him since,"

"Right…"

"Listen, Stiles… just, are you ok? You seem weird,"

"I do? I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you're expected to act normal after loosing two whole months of your life. I'll just call up the mayor, make it a new law. How does that sound?"

"And no longer acting weird,"

"Very funny Scott," Stiles said, but he couldn't help but smile at the friendly teasing. He'd missed this.

"So, who's that Adeleide chick?"

"Oh, Adi? She's a friend. Helped me get back here,"

"Home,"

"What?"

"Home. Helped you get back home,"

"Oh, yeah, right. Home." That unfortunately left the conversation at a dead end.

"I'm going to go sit with Adi. I'll come back in when everyone gets here,"

"Alright."

The re-unitingness of the night went better than Stiles had thought it would. Everyone was happy to see him, Erica actually cried she was so overwhelmed. Alison wore that stupid happy smile that could make any person feel better, Isaac was his usual quiet, detached self but still happy to see Stiles, while Boyd out right bear hugged him. He introduced Adi quickly, and everyone warily said hello. They weren't good with new-comers. Stiles, thankfully, was able to excuse himself by saying that he was exhausted. Scott shooed everyone away like a worried mother, and let Stiles take his bed. Little did he know, soon after Scott finally fell asleep, Stiles escaped out the window to meet Adi in the forest, a few miles from Derek's house.

"So, can you do it?" He asked her.

"Yeah, of course I can. I'll have to re-do the incantation once every few weeks. Just let me know when it gets weaker. Believe me, you'll know,"

"Alright… What do I do?"

"Just stand still." Stiles did as told. He stood completely still. Adeleide once more took a stance, but it was different this time. She threw her hands and her head towards the sky. Yet, once again, the world stopped. But instead of the area around them loosing substance, the stars themselves began to fade, the world turned a sickly grey, like the beauty of nature was being absorbed into her.

Her eyes once more turned a deathly black, and under her skin dark blue veins protruded. She cried out a new spell, screeching "ne perdat sol et scutum quod Luna est anima pura. munda eum. protegam eum!"

Suddenly, she turned her attention towards Stiles, and the colour of the world, as if a ferocious gust of hot air, shot towards him. It hit him right in the middle of his chest, and spread throughout his body.

Just as quickly as it began, it was over.

"So, we wait till sunrise then?"

"We wait till sunrise," Adi agreed. And that they did.


	2. Chapter 2

"What the fuck are you talking about Derek?" Stiles yelled. His anger had finally got the better of him. Over the seven months of finally being together since their long questioning of whether their feelings were mutual, which, in the end made the entire pack so pissed off that they outright made the two go on a date, had resulted in Stiles being able to deal with Derek's 'dark patches,' as he liked to call them. There were moments when Derek would ignore Stiles texts, avoid any form of contact both physical and verbal, and just shut himself off from the world. Stiles, eventually, got through to him, but there were some cases where it was just best to leave Derek on his own for a few days. It was when a few cigarette burns appeared on Derek's skin that Stiles decided it was best to ride these episodes out together, and not just avoid them. This was one of those times.

"I'm not good for you, Stiles,"

"Isn't that my own decision to make?"

"You don't get it! I'm vile, I'm a fucking monster!"

"Derek, if you hadn't noticed, I don't really mind that you're a werewolf,"

"Christ, Stiles, it's not that…"

"What is it then?" Stiles asked Derek over the kitchen bench. He'd been making them both some two-minute noodles when Derek had began the fight. As he always does. Derek shied his eyes, trying to avoid the dead end he'd lead himself down.

"Derek, what is it?" Stiles asked. Derek refused to look at him. Stiles leaned across the bench, and placed his hand on Derek's sculpted jaw. The bright blue eyes, rimmed with thick black lashes, tried to stay looking away, but were eventually pulled to look at Stiles'.

"Derek," Stiles said, his hand forcefully holding Derek's face in place.

"You, you're just. You're so, perfect. I wake up some days and just think that it's been a dream, that you're not really, here. I don't deserve you. I'm bad for you. I'm like fucking toxic waste, all I do is destroy and ruin everything,"

Stiles held onto Derek's face tightly, and brought him close. Stiles didn't divert his eyes, and looked intensely towards Derek.

"You are not toxic. You are not a waste of space. You are loved, and I want you. Derek, I _want_ you. I will never stop wanting you. You have to understand that."

For a moment, Derek's' heart skipped a beat. His stomach was turning happily inside of him, and, just for a moment, he was lost for words. Maybe he even wanted to believe what Stiles was saying, if only for a moment. But, in the end, it _was_ only a moment.

"I'm the one who killed them," Derek whispered, pulling away from Stiles.

"What?" Stiles said. He was beginning to grow tired of trying to make Derek see how much he cared for him. Love him, maybe. When would he learn that he's stuck with Stiles, whether he feels he deserves him or not.

"It was, it was because of me. I did it. I killed my family." Stiles couldn't quite believe it. They'd never talked about the fire before. It was the one subject that Stiles couldn't ever get passed, not by pushing it or pretending to not push it so as that he was pushing the topic. Nothing he did made Derek talk about The Hale Fire.

"Derek, you… you know, it wasn't you. It was Kate,"

"_I _was the one who let her into our home. _I _was the one who told her about, _everything_. _I _did it. It was because of _me_ that they all died. That they burned. I'm a monster because I caused my entire family to die." Stiles was quiet, for once in his life, he had nothing to say. He didn't know what to do. So, instead, he went over to Derek, and just hugged him. It wasn't as a boyfriend hugging his partner, it wasn't as a pity thing. He was a friend. He was someone who loved Derek. It was in that moment that boy men realized this.

Stiles, his heart in his throat, his stomach aching, his knees weak, looked up at Derek, and leaned towards his face, hoping to kiss him. Derek, looking down at this incredible boy, the one person he truly, completely loved. The only person since his entire family perished. And he couldn't let that happen again. He was bad news. He was self-destructive, he was moody and volatile. He pushes everyone away and hurts them, and later himself (queue cigarette burn scars). And he wouldn't let it happen again. This relationship was still new. It was growing. He had to stop it now, or else Stiles and him would fall so deep that neither would survive. They'd both drown. He couldn't do that, not to Stiles. He loved him.

He had to set him free, to let him live.

Derek pushed Stiles off him forcefully, and without looking back, walked out of Stiles front door. He took off at full pace, sprinting towards his home. All Stiles could do was look out at that spot Derek had just been, and hope that he hadn't scared him away.

Stiles had returned to Scott's room, jumping fluidly through the air, and landing lightly on the bed. Adi had said that she'd find peace sleeping within the forest. She wasn't one for being indoors. 'It didn't allow her to breath,' she'd said.

Stiles had this inner confidence of his own power and body since the change, that he didn't even question whether Scott would wake with his entering the room. Stiles had learnt to break into homes, either to steal or squat, during his stint away from home, so as that the task of silently opening a window and walking as if he were flying through the air, came naturally. Scotts breathing remained the same, as did his loud snoring. A small, half lipped smirk covered Stiles face. He'd missed this.

The day began at 5:38 am. This was because the sun began to steadily rise over the horizon of the Beacon Hills,' well, hills. He'd woken up at 5:30, and waited within the shadows for the sun to wake the world with its warm kiss. This would be the telling of how successful the spell Adi had cast had actually been. It would either destroy, or contain Stiles until he was ready to tell the world of his predicament. And then, maybe, he would return to the shadows.

He stepped out to the window, and looked upon the sky as it turned a soft blue grey. The darkness of the world was seeping away, the birds began to chirp expectantly with joy, and then, finally, the first rays of sun split across the sky.

Stiles held his hand out the window, and waited. Suddenly, the sun was shining over Scotts house, the shadow of night being cut away millimeter by millimeter. Stiles fingers suddenly felt warm. Like blood. He looked over to where his outstretched hand was, and saw the sun cast across it. He wasn't burning, his eyes weren't screaming at him. Both good signs so far. Steadily, the sun cast it's beautiful rays across Stiles, and to his joy, he wasn't flaking and catching light under its presence.

"Dude, shut the damn blind. It's too early. Want dark. Shut curtain. Now," he heard Scott complain, still half asleep, behind him. The overwhelming urge to throw his arms around his best friend, and exclaim his joy to him was only just held back. He could walk in the sun! After two months of constantly hiding from it, staying in the shadows, sleeping through the day and living, figuratively, through the night. He was finally bathing in it's pure, exhilarating, beauty. He'd completely forgotten how much energy you get from the sun. How much joy and excitement and ease that came with it's light.

"DUDE! SHUT THE CURTAIN!" Scott yelled.

"Wha? Ah, right," Stiles said, and fumbled with the material before he pulled it shut. He congratulated himself for his performance. Who knows, maybe he'd get an Oscar for his portrayal of 'Human Stiles.' He walked, rather loudly, back to Scotts bed. Slowly, as if exhausted, he pulled the blankets over him, and turned so that he faced away from Scott. A massive smile was plasted over his face.

_It worked Adi! I owe you. Thank you, so, so much_

_No Problem Stiles. I'll See You Later On Today. I'm Hanging Out With A Lovely Family Of Forest Squirrels Right Now. Talk Later. _

Stiles, very happily, found himself falling back to sleep.

-sorry it's so short, but I wanted this passage to be it's own chapter. Tell me what you think :) -


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles had woken after his five thirty sunshine test, feeling well and truly rested. Turns out he slept in till around one pm, and was greeted by Scott holding out a plate of eggs.

_Ah, _he thought, _Food. Ok, how do I explain this one away?_

"Oh, thanks man," he said, looking down at the lavish plate of eggs on toast with tomato, spinach, hash-browns and bacon. Scott must've put a lot of effort into it, so he couldn't outright ignore the food. He picked at it slightly, and talked non-stop, bringing the food up to his mouth, but never actually eating it. What made him feel worse was that he was actually _starving_. Just, not for eggs.

He was mid-sentence when Alison opened Scotts bedroom door.

"Aw, man. I knew you didn't make this!" Stiles said to Scott, who looked sheepishly away.

"So, you feeling better?" Alison asked, walking over to sit on the bed next to Stiles.

"Yeah, just nervous about going back to Dads. That and the fact that I can feel the bruise coming on." Alison looked at him curiously. Scott on the other hand was trying to stare Stiles out of admitting that he'd punched Stiles in the face.

"Scott, here. My best friend. Your doting boyfriend, punched me right in the face yesterday. I thought he broke my nose, blood everywhere. It wasn't pretty,"

"Scott!" Alison exclaimed. Her eyes were set to kill.

"Are you serious? You punched him in the face! What were you thinking!?" She yelled. Scott just looked dumbfounded, and kind of leaned back in his chair as if to get away from scary-angry-girlfriend.

"I'm sorryy! I, he, just turned up, alright! I didn't expect to punch him or anything!" Scott retorted. He really wasn't that good with words.

'_Carry on my wayward soooon,_

_there'll be peace when you are dooone,_

_lay your heavy head to ressttttt,_

_don't you cry no more…'_

"Oh, sorry guys. That's my phone. I better take this. I'm not finished with you yet, Scott McCall," and so Alison left, shooting Scott the evils, and Stiles a big bright smile. Scott looked at Stiles with a 'thanks for throwing me under the bus,' look, but it quickly subsided.

"She's watching _Supernatural _again, isn't she?" Stiles asked, knowing a change in subject was needed.

"She is seriously in love with that show. She has all this weird gay stuff on her laptop of an angel guy with some dude in an old car. It's weird,"

"Yeah, but, what can you do? It's girl stuff,"

"Guess so,"

Alison suddenly came barging back in.

Turns out she'd been staying over at Scotts place more than at her own. Stuff with her dad wasn't so great. The manic events that followed her mothers' death had kept Chris Argent sane, but, steadily, the depression that followed took over. He had quickly turned to alcohol, and hadn't stopped since. His temper was volatile, and he would often forget who Alison was. She would take refuge at Scotts, so, she felt as much at home here as she did at her own home. More so, she was beginning to realize. It would be weird having to share it with Stiles again.

"That was the pack, they're coming round. Oh, Stiles, aren't you hungry?" She finished, looking slightly downcast.

Stiles looked from his plate to Alison quickly, mimicking how he would have acted previous to his change, "ah, right… sorry Alison, it's really good, but I'm not hungry," Stiles apologized.

"I'll take it downstairs,"

"Nope, let me," Stiles butted in, and fluidly got off the bed, full plate in hand. He moved so swiftly the bed sheets barely even crinkled. Quickly, he raced down the stairs, leaving Alison and Scott to themselves.

Scott turned towards Alison, and gave her a weary smile.

"You alright?" She asked. When he smiled like that, it made all previous superficial anger leave her. It was the same smile he'd tried to pull off after Stiles disappeared. He was being her hero again. How many times did she have to tell him, she was her own hero, he didn't have to act like that.

"There's just something _weird _about Stiles. I don't know, since he got back, he's been different,"

"I was going to say something, but I just figured it was because he'd been kidnapped. He's also lost two months of his life. That's got to leave an effect, doesn't it?"

"That's what I thought, but, he moves differently. And he talks differently. He wears different clothes and he's just, he's not Stiles anymore…"

"I think you're both going to have to wade it out, okay? See what happens. Maybe, after a little while back at home, everything will go back to normal," she replied, taking a seat on his knee. She leaned in, and passionately kissed him. Her poor Scott, always so nervous and worried about those he loved.

Stiles returned from the kitchen, non-stop chatter about nothing really important, and together the trio waited for the pack to arrive. Scott put on some music and watched lacrosse videos on YouTube, Stiles sat talking with Alison about how school had been since he'd left. The first to come storming up the stairs was Boyd and then Erica. She practically flung herself onto Stiles, and Boyd smiled awkwardly, waiting to be able to do a man-back-pat that meant he was happy to see him.

"Who else is coming?" Stiles asked.

"Isaac, and Lydia," Erica replied quickly, sitting close to Stiles.

_So, Jackson didn't come back then,_ Stiles thought to himself.

"It's so good to have you back, Stiles. It wasn't the same without you," Erica said, hugging him once more. Stiles couldn't help but feel somehow awkward around everyone. The relationships he'd left when he'd been turned had been the best ever, but now he was lying to all of them. His friendship with Isaac, Lydia and Erica was exactly where it needed to be. They all trusted each other. Boyd was still on the outside a little bit, but his relationship with Erica was steadily becoming like an older brother, so he and Derek had been getting along really well. Lydia was Stiles friend, Erica was his go-to person, who he could trust with anything. And he was outright lying to their faces. They had no idea that he was technically no longer even alive. That Adi was a witch. That he was a monster far worse than them.

"Stiles!" Lydia cried out, and ran towards the bed, giving Stiles a very strong, tight hug. She hadn't been able to come around the night before, as she'd been talking to the FBI about Jackson. He'd disappeared four months prior to Stiles leaving. Everyone knew it was because he'd been turned, _properly_. The Kanima episode and then the werewolf, well, it made him question everything about himself. He decided he needed to find his family, and everyone within the pack knew he was leaving. But, he ended up disappearing a week earlier than planned, and the places he'd said he was going to hadn't even heard of him. Lydia made a missing person's case, but it was going nowhere. She recently talked to some FBI agents who had been passing through town, 'A Mulder and Skully, if you can believe it,' Alison had said. Stiles overheard Lydia talking to Alison about them, one being tall with massive side burns, the other shorter and slightly less P.C. After Lydia got the phone call from Scott, telling her about Stiles kidnapping, she had called the agents, questioning the possibility of Jackson being kidnapped.

What Stiles didn't know was that the two FBI agents had said some things to Lydia that poked very large holes in his story. There had been no ransom note or phone call, what was the reasoning behind him being taken? And if he had been kidnapped, why couldn't he remember any of it? These points were thumping loudly at the back of Lydia's mind. Why had Stiles been kidnapped? What was the point if they didn't get something in return? And why make him forget?

Lydia decided to play it cool, act like the friend she'd been prior to his disappearance. She couldn't let him know that she was questioning his story.

Stiles attention was brought to Isaac opening Scotts door. He was dressed in all black, with his hands in his pockets. Even within the two months that he'd been gone, Isaac was still the shy, nervous guy he'd left.

"Hey Stiles," Isaac said, head tilted slightly towards the ground.

"Hey Isaac," Stiles replied with a smile. It was then that he caught a weird look shared between Alison and Lydia. Erica seemed oblivious to it, as did Scott. They were both smiling broadly, overwhelmed with their happiness at his return. Stiles decided to ignore the look. It was probably nothing… he hoped.

"So, are you going round to your Dad's then?" Boyd asked, taking a seat on the couch in Scott's room.

"Yeah, I'm going round with Adi,"

"Yeah, who is this Adi chick anyways?" Lydia asked, lips slightly pursed.

"She helped me get free. She's a friend," Stiles said shyly.

"Whoever is a friend of Stiles, is a friend of ours," Isaac said, doing his soft half smile.

"Thanks," Stiles replied quietly.

"Well, what are you going to say?" Scott asked.

"Um, I don't know. I guess I could just try to explain everything that had happened and just hope that he believes me and understands and doesn't go too insane, but I don't see that happening," Stiles rambled purposely.

"But, I mean, what else can I do, you know, jump at him out of the bushes, make him a cake that says 'I was kidnapped,'"

"About that," Lydia interrupted, "Do you know who took you, or how, or where you went?"

"I told you already, I can't remember anything," Stiles said slyly. Lydia was acting strangely. She was usually full on, and questioned everything, but this time it wasn't with curiosity; it was with an untrusting malice.

"Well, I think you should just go and talk to him," Alison said. Isaac nodded, as did Boyd.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Erica asked.

"No, I'll be fine by myself,"

"You're going with Adeleide though," Erica said.

"Yeah, because she was there. She helped me get free. I trust her guys, don't worry,"

"We'll trust her when we know her," Boyd replied. Stiles just nodded. This conversation was steadily becoming more and more tense.

"Well, ah… Have you heard from Jackson?" Stiles asked.

"Nothing, unfortunately," Lydia replied. She'd moved herself so as that she was standing next to Alison.

"Nothing from Derek, either," Lydia continued.

"Ah," Stiles replied, dropping his head. The room went silent.

"Sorry, Stiles…" Alison apologized from Lydia.

"It's fine… It's, um. Well. It still feels like only a few days ago that he left. I have to get used to the fact that it's been two months,"

Lydia slanted her eyes and Stiles, then smiled brightly. She was faking it, Stiles could tell easily.

_Great. Just great. _

Just then Adi decided to land on the windowsill, and look in at everyone.

Alison jumped, whereas Boyd and Scott wolfed out almost immediately. They bared their teeth at the intruder, not recognizing her.

"Woo, calm down. Guys, its just Adi!" Stiles said, jumping a little too quickly from the bed to Adi's side.

"Hello everyone," Adeleide said airily, a soft smile across her face. Her eyes were big, and she stared for a couple of seconds at everyone in the room. Lydia slit her eyes at Adi, immediately not trusting the new comer. Scott had already backed down, Boyd on the other hand kept his nails and teeth in wolf-mode, not allowing anything to happen.

"Adi, this is Lydia. You've met everyone else,"

"Ah, Lydia! I have heard so much about you!" Adi said jumping from the windowsill, and running into Lydia, giving her a massive hug.

_Is Everything Alright?_

_Yeah, it's fine. No one is too trusting at the moment._

_That'll Change._

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"So, you're both going to Stiles' place then?" Isaac asked. Adi had loosened her grip on Lydia, who, for the first time that night, was genuinely smiling. The fact that Stiles had talked about her to Adi must have put him back in her good books.

"Yeah, since Adi was actually there, I thought it would be better that she came along. You know, back up evidence and everything,"

"Yeah, sounds good," Isaac replied.

"When are you planning to go?" Erica asked, still attached to Stiles side.

"Oh, we're going in three minutes," Adi replied.

"Three minutes?" Erica asked, sharing a look with Boyd.

"Yes. Three minutes,"

"Ah, why?" Boyd asked.

"That's when Stiles' father will have finished his first glass. He will therefore be in a better mood. It's rather obvious, is it not?" Adi replied. She had no idea how uncomfortable she was making the pack. They could sense an un-stillness about her. She wasn't attached to this earth; there was something, _otherworldly_ about her. And the Pack didn't like it. Stiles could smell the tension growing, and knew he had to leave. If it came to blows, he'd protect Adi. Not for her sake, but for the Packs. It wouldn't matter if his secret came out. It's better than Adi calling on the other dimension or whatever and causing everyone's heads to explode. He'd seen that happen before, and it wasn't pretty.

_One Minute_

"Ok, guys, I guess we'll be off. I'll see you all tomorrow, maybe," Stiles said, walking towards the door. Adi followed silently. The Pack chorused a goodbye, but as soon as the door was closed, they looked towards each other, unknowing of what Adi was, and whether or not to believe their pack member.

"It's Stiles, guys. He wouldn't lie to us!" Scott protested.

"You don't know that Scott," Boyd replied.

"He's been my best friend for most of my life. I think I'd know whether or not he'd lie to me,"

"If that even is Stiles," Lydia whispered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Erica half yelled. She had clenched fists, and Boyd was looking at her intensely, willing her to not start a fight.

"Did you even see him! The way he ran from the bed. He'd been weird ever since he got back. He's taller, that's for sure. There's something, _off _about him. He's not the Stiles we knew. We can't trust him," Lydia replied.

"Do you even hear yourselves!? He's been gone, missing, _kidnapped _for Christ sake, for two fucking months, and as soon as he gets back, all you do is question him, and test him, and don't trust him. And now you're saying its not even Stiles!" Erica yelled.

"We're not saying that, Erica!" Alison said.

"Butt out Argent!"

"Don't talk to Alison like that," Scott stated. There was still bad blood between Alison and Erica. The whole case of Alison shooting both Boyd and Isaac, then holding him hostage, hadn't been forgotten that easily. The Pack stopped talking, obeying their alpha.

Isaac was ever quiet in the corner of the room, whilst Scott was contemplating the evening, recalling what had happened in his head. There had been something different about Stiles. He moved different. The look in his eyes showed him contemplating his words, even though he sounded like Stiles, it was like he was trying to sound like himself. Thinking it though. That was something Stiles didn't do.

"I think we should trust him," Isaac said.

"Out of everyone, I never expected you to say that," Lydia retorted. She was being vindictive, she knew it, but she couldn't help it.

"Whatever we think or feel, he's still Stiles. If he thinks we doubt him, he'll just leave. He won't tell us anything. He might know something important about the animal attacks, or where Derek or Jackson are,"

"Why would he know that?" Boyd asked.

"His story about being kidnapped is obviously bullshit. He's been gone, and he has his reasons. If it was something so terrible that he can't even tell us the truth, well, you know Stiles. He's always trying to help. Maybe he's been blackmailed, or threatened." The Pack was silent, everyone taking in what Isaac had said. He had a point.

"I don't trust Adi. There's something not right about that girl. But, in the end, there's something not right about all of us. We can't be the first to judge her. And if Stiles trusts her, then I think we should at least try to trust her too," Isaac finished. The Pack nodded, unsure of their agreement, but knowing that what Isaac said was right.

Stiles and Adi walked slowly from Scotts house at first, but when the arguing began, and Stiles could listen in easily without meaning to, he felt his feet move faster and faster from under him. Next thing he knew he was in the Hale forest, Adi following close behind.

"Are you ok?" She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah. I'll be fine,"

"Have you fed?"

"Not yet. I'll go before I see my Dad, alright?"

"Okay. Follow me," Adeleide said, and began to run again. Stiles followed her until they were deep in the forest. The warm summer air hung heavily in the trees, and patches of mellow soft light dotted the grass green ground. Pines, oaks and other mismatching trees surrounded them, the deeper they went, the thicker the bark and fatter the roots. Stiles, for the first time in a while, had to actually pay attention as to not fall from the twisting, overwhelming roots that covered the forest ground.

"Here we are. Home sweet home," Adi said, stopping suddenly by a tall oak tree. Branches the colour of rich soil dipped around them both, and splinters of sunlight left a pretty pattern over the thick ground. The branches lead on to a full head of leaves, which swayed ever so slightly to the movements of the wind, like a loving, sleepy dance.

Adi began to climb the tree, and Stiles following, shadowing her hand grooves and foot movements exactly. Within seconds they were sitting comfortably in a little alcove, molded by Adi's magick. The branches were turned and twisted into a type of shell, so as to protect her from the elements. Stiles once again found himself overwhelmed by her power.

Within the shell, he found Tonks, who was sleeping in a patch of light on a bed of leaves. He took a seat within the shelter, and waited while Adi whispered something to the wood. The branches beneath his feet began to twist and churn, and suddenly a table with chairs were created in front of his very eyes. A massive smile found it's way across his face.

He never knew it, but Adi prized herself in being able to create those smiles. She had found him at his worst, and had silently pledged to bring a smile to his face every time he was feeling down. She felt a sense of motherly need to protect him, to keep him from harm. She'd never tell him, though. Never.

Tonks found his way onto Stiles lap, and turned around on his thighs, finding the comfiest spot.

"I'd missed you, you old thing," Stiles said, rubbing the cat behind its ears.

It purred loudly, and rest its head on his knee. Adi looked on happily.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked, sitting down at the makeshift table and chairs.

"I have no idea. The Pack already doesn't trust me. I just don't know what to do,"

"Who cares about the Pack. We can sort that out later. We need to know what to tell your father,"

"Jesus. Why is this so hard," Stiles said, pulling his hand from Tonks to rub his forehead. The cat was quick to complain, stabbing his thigh repetitively with its sharp claws.

"Ow, okay, okay," Stiles said, and went back to patting the thin, black animal.

"A cult," Adi suddenly said, almost shouting it.

"What?"

"I was just talking to Nazgial, and they said that it could work out with you being part of a cult!"

"A cult, really?"

"Yes. It's perfect… you were kidnapped after a drunken night due to Dereks leaving. A cult member found you, and took you in. You were programmed to act like them and think like them. I was a famous journalist who found out about the cult and decided to take them down! I come storming in, but not in time to save your memories, which they wiped using some new pheromones or technologigies,"

"It began great, but ended like some sort of sci-fi movie. And you can't be a journalist,"

"Why not!'

"Ah, because you're not. And I'm Dad's the Sherriff, he'd be able to look you up,"

"Valid points," Adi replied, looking a little downcast.

"Thing is, it could work. It would explain away the who and the why. It would show why I've changed, and why there was no ransom note. Actually, Adi. It's brilliant!" Stiles said, smiling happily.

"Brilliant, now all we have to do is tell your Dad,"

_**-Please review :)**_


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles house was cast in the soft golden orange light of the setting sun. The day had passed by quickly, and he found himself wishing he could go back to when he woke up. This was going to be one of the hardest days of his life.

"It's a long life you live, you never know what could happen," Adi said, standing next to him.

"Thanks Adi, that's just what I wanted to hear." She just smiled back at him.

"Come on, let's just go in and talk to him," She said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

Stiles felt physically sick. The fresh blood that was running through him seemed unnatural and vile, like stomach acid pumping through him, staining his tongue with a vile taste. Adi turned towards him, and saw his fists clenched, his jaw set like stone, and his eyes a dark, blood red. She had thought that after the feed he would become steady headed. Apparently it was doing the complete opposite.

"Stiles, calm," Adi said, turning him around to look at her, "snap out of it." Stiles blinked and shook his head. His eyes faded to their usual chocolately brown, his hands unclenched and he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Stiles, it's going to be fine,"

"How do you know that Adi? How could this fucked up situation be 'fine'?"

"Well, because it has to." That put an end to the conversation. And, oddly, Stiles _did_ feel more relaxed. Her guidance always seemed to echo a sense of knowledge that he would never achieve. It was calming, knowing he had her by his side.

"Come on, let's get this over with, shall we?" She asked, pulling him along.

Stiles reluctantly let her tug at him until his feet moved with their own accord. His house; the home he left, the life he left, it was staring at him, willing him to acknowledge that he had abandoned it all. His friends. His father. His entire life. And it would never be the same again.

Before he knew it, they were on his front door. The garden had grown unruly, dust and dirt covered the doorstep, and he spied spider webs within the windowsills. This was going to be even harder than he expected.

"Go on, knock," Adi said, pushing him slightly. He took a deep, unneeded breath, and knocked on the door.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Suddenly a noise, like the screeching of a moving table, the flipping of a newspaper and the soft clink of a glass being put down reached his ears.

"Yeah, what do you want?" his Dad yelled out through the house. Stiles in turn just knocked again.

"Go away!"

"Dad?" He half said, half whispered.

"For fucks sake I said I wanted to be-" The Sheriff said, violently pulling the door open. He just stared at his son, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes heavy with sadness.

"S-Stiles?..." He said, putting his hand to the boys face. He was shaking. The stench of alcohol was vibrating off of him with each movement he made.

"Is, is it really you?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm home," Stiles replied, his voice slightly breaking when he said home. Because, deep down, he knew it would never be his home again, not really. It was then that his father collapsed into him, pulling him towards his chest so forcefully it was like a clamp crushing around him. Stiles could almost feel his father's pain, leaking out of his very pores and into him. He had caused this. This was _his _fault.

_Stiles. Stiles. Stiles. Stiles_ his dad murmured, as if trying to live through a nightmare. They wrapped themselves together in a death like grip, his father crying into his shoulder, Stiles biting down on his lip, praying that this was the worst of what was to come.

Adrenaline rushed through him, and his chest felt like a deep, cavernous pit. His head began to spin and his throat closed up. He was dying all over again. Was this what crying felt like? Was this some sort of sick, vampire panic attack? Stiles was unable to connect the dots as his head kept spinning. All he could think of was how he had left his father. He'd left him, and this is what had happened. The house was a wreck, and his father was beyond even that. Stiles fangs extended ever so slightly, digging into his lip. A little sheen of blood escaped and ran it's way through the wrinkles of his lip, pooling into a little teardrop on his chin. He wiped it away quickly.

How would he survive this?

It wasn't until the sun set, leaving the two in a soft grey light, that his father let him go. He planted a kiss on his forehead, and released him gingerly, as if scared that he would disappear into the night again.

"Boy, you've gotten taller,"

"Huh, yeah. I guess I have," Stiles said, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes.

"Come inside," the Sherriff said. Then, as if suddenly accepting Adeleide's presence, "who's this?"

Adi held her head high, and seemed to be whispering to something on her right, but in a way as to quickly make the thing shut up, trying to not catch the sheriffs attention.

"This is Adi, she, well… I'll explain everything inside." The Sherriff looked her over, his eyes slightly taunt, taking the girl in. It was obvious that she wasn't normal; her vague expression was enough of a tell. That alongside her bushy earth-child like long hair, big greyish purple eyes, and her odd and completely homeless looking choice of attire, well, the look that Stiles father gave her wasn't exactly unwarranted.

"You didn't knock her up or anything?" He asked, walking back inside.

"**_What_**_!_ No! _Geese_ Dad," Stiles exclaimed. Adi just laughed to herself as she followed the pair.

The inside of his house was in shatters. As Stiles walked the halls, following his father, the extent of the damage done became horrifically obvious. The carpet was thick with dust and dirt. Yellowing newspapers sat by the front door, and a broken glass of what appeared to be Jack Daniels littered the floor. His Dad simply pushed it to the side, like it belonged there. All the blinds were drawn, clothing sat in muddled, dirty, stinking piles. A few dishes sat half cleaned in the sink, and the rubbish bin was overflowing with take out paper bags and pizza boxes. A line of empty bottles sat on the kitchen bench.

What scared Stiles the most, what overpowered the stench of B.O, alcohol and rubbish, was the brighter square shaped patches on all the walls. Every single photo ever taken and hung by his father had been violently pulled from the wall, and tossed on the ground.

Stiles quickly collected himself, finding them at the lounge. The couch was tipped over, and his father quickly pushed it back in place.

"Sorry about the mess," he stated. He sat down on the lounger that was opposite to the up-turned couch. Stiles offered the first place for Adi to sit, who took it thankfully. Sherriff Stilinski continued to look at Stiles with a gob-smacked, yet slightly disbelieving look.

"So, Dad, take out? Drinking? I thought I'd taught you better!" Stiles joked. It landed on dull ears. His father just cast him a dirty look. A hung-over, pissed off look.

_"Where were you Stiles?"_

"I don't know,"

"What the hell do you mean, 'You don't know'?"  
"I, ah… I was kidnapped. At least, I think I was. I'm not too sure. It's just, a blur. Or more, there's nothing really there. No blur. Just, nothing…"

"_What_? Stiles, talk properly for fucks sake. I'm so sick of this yabbering on non-sense. I want to know where the hell you were, and **_now_**." Stiles looked down at his hands. His Dad was bad. Very, very bad. Mum dying bad.

_Stiles, It Will Be Fine. Just Tell Him Our Story…_

Stiles nodded softly, knowing that she saw him acknowledge her comment. Sherriff Stilinski was leaning on his knees, head in his hands, rubbing his eyes. He looked like he had a headache. The wrinkles around his eyes were deeper, the bags under them darker, his face and body thinner. Suddenly, his father stood up, and reached for the bottle of Jim Beam to his right. Stiles looked on disapprovingly, but knew that it would help him. If his father was a little less cranky, he might accept his bullshit excuses.

"Right. Ah…yeah, see, I don't really remember much of the last few months. And by 'much' I mean anything at all. It's a complete blank. I'm pretty sure Derek left two days ago,"

"You lost your memory?" his father asked, taking a swig of his drink. A very large swig at that.

"It appears so," Adi butted in. The Sherriff shot Adi an exhausted, angry look. She tilted her head slightly, as if taking in the situation and accepting it for what it was. A curious, 'you do not affect me,' look. The corner of her lip tugged slightly upwards, a small smirk like smile lighting up her face. She looked powerful and fucking terrifying.

Adi didn't like this man. He was a vile human being. He drank too much, his thoughts were dull and lacking in real opinion or compassion. He was a cross man, and had been for a while. She did not like the way he looked at her, or the eyes he used to stare at Stiles. She did not like the stench that rolled off him, nor the dark house he lived in. She did not like him one bit. So, the better he realized how powerful she was, the better off she felt. What were her powers worth if not to intimidate those who treated her and her loved ones cruelly.

* * *

_The earth was thick under her feet. The acidic taste of bile still lay on her tongue. Lights, the colour of the devils eyes licked at her heels. Screams, screams so loud they would plague her dreams for eternity, rolled over the hills, following her steps. She had to do it. To save them. _

* * *

"So, where do _you_ come in?" The Sherriff asked Adi. She blinked, shut her mouth (she had not realized she was mumbling) and stared at the sherriff.

"I believe we were both kidnapped by a cult,"

"A cult! Well, if I haven't heard it all!"

Stiles didn't like the way his father was acting. Something wasn't right about him; he was harsh, unkind and menacing. What had happened to the soft eyes, the kind, loving smile and embracing arms he had always known.

"Yes," Adi continued, pressing her hands against the couch as to divert her anger, "I was also taken from my home. I can remember some of my time there, then waking up, and escaping with Stiles. But, other than the beginning and the end, I am unsure of what happened,"

"A cult then… can you remember anything about the men who took you? Were there any symbols? Why did they choose you?" the Sherriff asked Stiles. He completely ignored Adi. Stiles could almost feel the negative energy radiating off of her. The room would turn to static soon if she didn't calm down.

"I'm sorry Dad, I can't remember anything."

The Sherriff looked angrily down at his lap. He needed to know who these men where, what they had done to his boy. He had changed. His father could tell that something about him wasn't as it had been before. Was it the eyes? The clothes? His body? Yes, it was all of them, but it was also Stiles himself. His personality. The way in which he held his shoulders, breathed slowly and scarcely, and the way he would pause momentarily before talking. He was calculative. Stiles his son-the Stiles he knew-was not calculated. He whole-heartedly rushed into everything he did. This boy was something new.

_What had they done to him? _

"I believe, well, from the talking that Stiles and I have done together since leaving, that they target youths who are 'sinners.' I have no family; they died when I was young, so I was living on the streets. I believe they took me to try and 'save' my soul,"

"Yeah, but my son isn't homeless! He has a family, and friends!"

"Dad, after Derek left, I wasn't, well… let's say stable? I was drinking a lot. And I'm pretty sure they could have found me on the side of the road, out to the world, and taken me. It, ah, it wasn't good,"

"Damn right it wasn't good! I tried so hard to make sure you knew about the dangers of drinking, I never wanted you to use it as an outlet. And look what happens when you do! The worst that could happen! You get taken. _Fucking hell_."

_If only he knew _Stiles thought.

"I'm sorry Dad. I've tried so, so hard to remember _anything _at all. But I just can't. I don't know what crap they pulled, but I have no idea what I did in the last two months,"

"I'm afraid it's the same with me," Adi said.

Mr. Stilinski wanted desperately to trust Stiles, to believe what he was saying. But, it was just sooo far-fetched. A cult collecting teenagers as souvenirs? It was the most bullshit story he'd heard of since taking up the Sherriff's position… But, then again, nothing else could explain away his sons' leaving. At least, nothing that he didn't want to desperately be untrue. Questions still swarmed his head:

Why would Stiles suddenly disappear? If he had been kidnapped due to his fathers' status; a personal vendetta maybe, it would have acted out differently. There would have been phone calls, ransom notes and police work. And of course, Stiles would never willingly leave everyone; he had no reason to. He wasn't a run-away. The Sherriff couldn't quite believe it, but his cult story was sounding like the most believable outcome… at least, the most believable one he wanted to believe in.

"So, how did you find yourself going along with this Adi person?"

"Ah," Stiles said, trying to look like he was thinking intensely, "I can remember waking up with her looking over me. I was in the back of a van. Both she and I were gagged; I guess they were moving us somewhere different. Well, the people who were driving the thing had left to do something, I don't know what. And well, Adi just opened the van door, and we both climbed out. We ran for so long, and then slept in a park. I mean, we had no idea what had happened, or where we were. We had no money, no contact details or I.D. I mean, we were fucked- ah, sorry Dad.

Anyway, we talked for a bit, trying to realize what the hell had happened and we pieced together everything and I guess we came to the conclusion that we were kidnapped. We didn't know that it was for a cult yet, we both thought we'd been gone for only a couple of hours. Next thing you know, I see my face on the T.V in McDonalds. That's when we checked the dates. Man, that was a shock to both of us. We just headed home then. Adi tagged along, no home of her own and everything. We tried to remember more on the way, but we couldn't. We only just realized that it must've been a cult, I mean, you didn't receive any threats, or anything like that, right?" Stiles finally finished.

"Nope. We didn't get nothing. Not a damn thing from you in over two months."

Stiles looked down at his lap, hiding his face.

_Please let him be buying this bullshit. Please please please please_

_I Believe Your Father To Be A Smart Man. But, He Wants To Believe You. He Will. Do Not Worry So Much. _

_Easy for you to say_

Stiles looked up at his Dad. He looked so very tired. And not the tired he was used to; late hours at work and the stress of Stiles school/social life. No, this was a new tired. This was like exhaustion brought on just by waking up. He looked completely done with life. There wasn't a spark there anymore. There was just, nothing.

"Dad, please. I'm sorry," he whispered. His father looked up from his hands, eyes near full to the brim with tears, "I don't know what happened. I am trying, so so hard to remember anything. I just can't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for Mum, I'm sorry for how fucked up I am. I'm so, so, so sorry," and suddenly he was crying. His throat was constricting within his neck, and each breath he took felt like it may be his last. Tears fell form his eyes like stones down a cliff, heavily landing on his knees. His shoulders dropped and rose, riding out the choked sobs. Adi quickly placed a hand on his shoulder, and looked towards his father. She widened her eyes, silently encouraging him to aid his son.

Steadily, Sherriff Stilinski rose from his seat. He walked slowly, each step taking a millennia, until he finally stood, looking over Stiles. It was almost automatic; he didn't even realize he was doing it until he too was crying, holding onto Stiles so tightly it was like he was holding on for dear life. This boy represented everything good in his life. He wouldn't loose him again. No, he _couldn't _loose him again. He wouldn't survive it next time.

"I… I'm sorry," Stiles muttered through sobs. His father just shook his head, ignoring his sons apologies. He didn't need to say sorry.

"I'm the one who has to be sorry. I shouldn't have let anything happen to you," He said, pulling away to take a look at his son. He raised Stiles' head till they were looking each other in the eye.

"I should have protected you from everything out there. I'm the father, I should have protected you. Your mother-" he chocked slightly, unable to even say her name, "would have wanted better for us. She would have wanted us to stay together, through everything. _I_ am sorry. So very, very sorry."

Stiles wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and sniffed slightly. A half smile came across his face.

"It's good to be home,"


	5. Chapter 5

The loud beep of Stiles' alarm clock woke him from a dreamless sleep. He opened his eyes, already wide-awake. He began school today, and_ boy_ was it going to be weird. He was going to see his old teachers again, his school friends, classmates. He'd talked to his father, who had decided to call the school and say that Stiles had hit his head, and had been in hospital with minor memory loss for the last few months. Sure, it would cause gossip, but it was better than his other story, the one his father believed to be real. How many lies was he going to spin before he became caught in his own web?

Stiles refused to let himself suffer so early in the morning. Quickly, he hopped out of bed, and made his way to the bathroom. Adi had slept outside under the stars. Just another thing to add to his father's list of reasons to get rid of her somehow.

Stiles received the shock of his life when Alison was suddenly outside his bedroom door, smiling happily at him.

"Ah, am I at the right house?" He asked out loud. Both his pants and top were already on his bedroom floor, leaving him in nothing but boxer-briefs. Alison, who began smiling happily, let her jaw drop slightly. Before her, where scrawny, shorter Stiles would have stood, was now a tall, toned body comprised of perfect, seductive lean muscle. She found herself staring slightly, and had to give excuses each time she remembered it.

_He had that V thingy. And abs. And collar bones. And biceps. Oh god, Alison, stop it!_

"Uh… wow…" She said, not meaning to. This was _Stiles_! Scott's best friend. Annoying, hyperactive Stiles. Really, really hot stiles. _Alison! STOP IT!_

"Alison?" Stiles asked. She shook her head, looking down at her feet as if coming out of a trance.

"Right. Hi," She said, pulling the smile that Stiles would always remember her for, "I came round to see if you wanted a ride into school. First day and all,"

"I was just planning on taking my Jeep in…"

"Yeah, yeah course. Sorry, I just thought you might like the company,"

"Well, I could always give you the lift. I haven't driven in my baby for so long… I kind of wanted to take her out for a spin,"

"Yeah, that would be nice," She said, staring once more.

"So… I'll meet you downstairs?"

"Huh, oh… right, yeah. Right," Alison said, quickly turning on her heels.

"Help yourself to some breakfast if you want it," Stiles said, and continued to walk to the shower, all the while being silently very happy with himself. His shower was a quick one, as was his getting dressed. His movements were ever so slightly supernatural, but, as long as no one was there to notice, did it really matter if he used his new gear?

_Today might just be a good day_

* * *

"Oh, hello Adi," he heard Alison say downstairs. It seemed Adeleide had turned up for some breakfast.

"Morning Alison. Do you know if Stiles has any corn strudel?"

"Ah, not too sure…"

"I guess toast will have to do then." Stiles just laughed to himself upstairs. He pulled on a pair of jeans, a loose black t-shirt and a grey hoodie. Next, he kneeled down at his bed, and felt along the side till he found the slit in the material. There, he reached inside and pulled out two blood-bags. He stuffed them into the lining of his school bag. Adi sure was a brilliant craftsman. Or, more, crafts-woman.

He made his way downstairs, slipping into a pair of chuck tailors.

"Morning girls," he said, smiling proudly. His father was upstairs still, sleeping off a hangover. Even though Stiles had returned, the Sherriffs drinking hadn't ceased.

Alison handed him a cup of coffee, which he happily accepted, placing it to his lips but not drinking from it. He then placed it to his side, seemingly busy over gathering the essentials for his school day. When he was ready, he bid farewell to Adi, who said she would 'be around,' and got into his pride and joy, Alison following close behind. A huge smile was plastid across his face as he started the engine, and heard the pathetic grunt.

"God, I missed you," he said, almost seductively stroking the steering wheel. Alison just looked at him and laughed.

"What?" Stiles said, still smiling, playing the fool. He flicked the radio on, and reversed out of his driveway. Human eyes wouldn't have caught it, but he managed to spy Adeleide hovering slightly above his house, flickering as if caught between the two worlds. Taking a trip to the other side, it seemed.

The drive to school was nice. Alison and Stiles made quiet conversation about nothing in particular which he actually found himself quite enjoying. Nothing about wolves or deaths or anxiety about who would die or get hurt next. They talked about schoolwork and music and movies. It felt normal. And normal was good right now. Soon they were pulling up to the school, and finding themselves a car park. All eyes were on Stiles and his iconic blue Jeep. As he exited, a few gasps were let out. They hadn't expected Stiles to look so… well, good. They'd wanted the normal, annoying kid to be bruised and mental. Something interesting to talk about. Instead, he comes back better than before.

The rest of the school day was spent ignoring nearly everyone in all of his classes. He sat once again next to Scott in ever class possible, next to Alison in English; the only class they shared together, and next to Isaac in Statistics. Stiles was amazed to find that when he went to his locker, three separate phone numbers scribbled onto scrap paper had been slid through.

"So, you seem popular," Erica said, sliding up to Stiles' side. She wore a bitter frown on her face. She didn't like the new attention Stiles was getting.

"Yeah, doesn't mean much though. Do you have Bio next?" He asked, quickly changing subject. Erica simply scowled.

"Oh, don't be such a sulking mutt. C'mon, we have class to get to," to which Stiles put his arm around Erica, and pulled her along. Everyone stared on, the guys with proud faces, the girls envious. Erica loved it. The smile across her face made him believe that everything would be alright. Little did he know, everything would only get worse.

The day went by quickly, and Stiles found himself becoming jittery. His eyesight was blurring, and his hearing was picking up on people's heartbeats. Soon, they became so loud that he had to excuse himself from class. He'd been sitting by himself in Chemistry, when he just couldn't take it. He'd found himself thinking of ripping open the kids around him, drinking from them slowly, making it hurt. He grabbed his bag, and left the class. The teacher called out after him, but he ignored her. He ran, stupidly, at full force, and found himself hiding behind the library. Quickly, he pulled out the two bags he'd hidden in his bag, ripped them open… and poured them into a metal drink bottle. Even though he was starving, he wouldn't risk getting caught. He drank from the bottle greedily, always keeping an ear out for those who could walk passed.

Stiles stayed by the library until he heard the bell for lunch ring out through the school. Next thing he knew, the familiar scent of Adi and Tonks caught his attention. Soon, she was popping across the lacrosse field, making her way over to him. The dot of black that was Tonks trailing in her footsteps. She took a seat next to him, legs folded, eating a chestnut dumpling.

"So, how's school?" she asked.

"It's average at best. It's good to see everyone though… I guess,"

"I was wondering," she said between bites, "would you like to go on an adventure?"

"Adventure? If it's anything like the last few months, I'll say no thanks,"

"Nope, I just mean to the forest,"

"Maybe after school?"

Suddenly, the light caught Adi's eyes and her face seemed to contort and glean with a mischievous sneer. The world was blurry for a second, and next thing Stiles' knew, the end of day bell was ringing.

"Adi! You can't just do that!"

"Do what?" She replied innocently. Though her power was awesome, in some cases it petrified him. With just a glean of her eyes half the day had passed by.

"To the forest then?"

"Yeah-yeah, alright."

Once they were some means away from anyone's eyesight, they sprinted, letting their legs stretch. The wind tore at their hair, branches and twigs cut at their limbs. They both felt so alive. And then Stiles stopped. He didn't want to be here. Had Adi done this on purpose?

The Hale House sat stoically, sobering in front of him. It's broken roof, burnt edges and leaf-covered terraces made Stiles stop dead. Memories of times past came flooding back to him. Movie nights spent together, endless fights over nothing truly important, when Derek made Stiles dinner that one time. Fights over the safety of Stiles' Jeep; Derek wanted desperately to get Stiles' a better car, one that wouldn't kill him if he crashed. Stiles silently snickered to himself now, realizing how stupid that argument would be today.

"Adi, what the fuck are we doing here?"

"Use your senses,"

"What are you on about now?" he said, walking over to her. She was standing some ways closer to the house, her nose to the air.

"Can you smell that?"

"What?"

"Vampire,"

"What on earth are you one about Adi?"

"Someone's been here. Another vampire. Not you. Very recently, it seems… I thought we should check it out." Stiles let his guard down, and opened his senses, trying to pinpoint what Adi could smell. And suddenly, there it was. A musky, sweet smell, like old cellars and toffee apples.

"What else can you smell?"

"I'm trying, alright," he said, agitated. He didn't like how Adi had tricked him into coming here. It was mischievous and manipulative. But, he knew he had to let it lie for now. Something wasn't right, another vampire was here. This was his town. He was the resident vamp here, and anyone else would just have to fuck off.

He let his guard down once more, ending any thoughts he was half way through, and let the earth tell him what had happened. Or, at least, that's how Adeleide put it. He was pretty sure that's not what vampires actually did, you know, connected to the earth or whatever. That's more Adi's witchy-thing. But, it's how she taught him to deal with it all, so it was how he was going to do it.

The soft sent of cigarettes, Port Royals to be exact, mint leaves, and Axe body spray suddenly overwhelmed him.

"What the hell?"

"Yes… I wasn't quite expecting that either," Adi said, her brows furrowed.

"So, we're looking for a vampire who smokes, wears Axe, and eats mints?" He asked, already doubting himself. Adi wasn't listening, instead, she was on the ground, feeling out the leaves as if they gave her the very clues she needed.

"Anything?" he asked.

"Hmm… oh, right. Yeah, it seems he passed through a day ago. He stayed here for a while, but moved on. I've caught his smell throughout town, so he's stayed,"

"Then we find him, don't we?"

"It might not be that easy,"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you are young. He is not. He might be harder to track down than what we expect,"

"Yeah, but with you by my side, what trouble could I come up against?" Adi smiled wearily. She was beginning to struggle with keeping her memories encased. They were leaking, slowly, into her everyday life. And she didn't like it.

"I say I go back, and talk to Scott. He might know something about what the hells' going on,"

"Good idea. I'll see you later tonight. Meet on your roof." Adi nodded solemnly at Stiles, then took off, deeper into the forest. Stiles' looked out at her as she left, wondering what was wrong. She was twitchy, manipulative today. This wasn't the Adi he knew. He'd have to deal with her later.

* * *

Stiles knocked on Scotts door twice, and waited for Melissa to open it.

"Oh, hey Stiles. Scotts in his room,"

"Alison here?"

"Nope. She had training with her father. I think. Go on up,"

"Thanks Mrs. McCall." She smiled, and let Stiles in. He rushed up the stairs, ready to talk to Scott about his father and the possible vampire and Adi.

"Stiles?" he heard from behind him. Melissa was calling up the stairs.

"Yeah Mrs. M?"

"It's good to have you back,"

"Aw, shucks. It's good to be back," he replied, turning back. Mrs. McCall just brushed it off. Stiles had always been a weird one.

"Yo, Scott!" Stiles said, opening the door. Scott was splayed out over his bed, trying to concentrate on homework. He smiled, happy to be distracted.

"Where did you go today?" he asked. Stiles tried to look innocent.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You disappeared at lunch. It's your first day back man, not a good idea to skive off like that,"

"I wasn't skiving!" Scott just looked at him, not believing a word that was coming out of his mouth.

"Well. Maybe. Adi came round so we took off for a bit. She found something weird, in the woods, wanted to show me,"

"What was it?" Scott said, sitting up quickly.

"Woah. Something you guys haven't told me?" Stiles asked. He took a seat on Scotts' desk chair, and was swiveling round on it.

"Didn't your Dad tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"The animal killings? We've found dead animals, bled dry, all over the forest. Then there was the murder,"

"Murder?" Stiles asked, trying to be shocked. He'd already suspected that someone would be dead. It's just how life at Beacon Hills went.

"Yeah, some chick was found in the forest. White as a sheet, throat ripped up. Erica thinks it's a vampire,"

"I vampire! Seriously! Cool!"

"Not cool Stiles! This could be really serious. What if it kills my mum, or your dad, or you. What if it kills Alison!" Stiles couldn't help but feel as though Scott was punching him in the chest each time he said 'it' instead of 'he' or 'she.' Stiles knew Scott didn't know, that he didn't mean it. Growing up with Scott, Stiles knew that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the tool shed. It still hurt him, though.

"Yeah, didn't think about that. So, what have I missed then?" Stiles asked.

"After you and Derek left, weird stuff started happening here,"

"That makes a change,"

"Don't joke about this Stiles, this is serious!"

"Right right, sorry. Go on, continue," Stiles replied, leaning his head on the chair backing. He continued to swing slightly. Man, he was good at this.

"Animals turned up first. Boyd and I went to check it out, and they weren't wolf killings. Then, next thing, there's a dead body. We had a pack meeting, and Erica said it looked like a vampire. Isaac did some searching, and it definitely seems the most likely. We just don't know how to kill it,"

"What, no garlic, wooden daggers?"

"No idea. We haven't been able to test it out. But we can smell it; at every crime body there was this smell of cigarettes, mints, and Axe body spray,"

"Axe body spray? Are you sure it's a vampire, and not some asshole from school?"

"Unfortunately not. But we'll find him, before he kills again. That's for sure,"

Stiles went silent, but nodded.

"I guess I better do some research then,"

"Yeah. It's been hard without you around," Scott said, smiling. Stiles just smiled back. But inside, he wasn't feeling as happy.

* * *

"I don't know why we have to keep these a secret form him. He's back, he should be part of the pack meetings!" Erica protested. They were all stuffed into Scotts room, looking eagerly in at Scott and Boyd, who were at the center of their misshapen circle.

"There's something not right about Stiles. You know this Erica. Don't lie to yourself," Boyd said, pleading with her. She'd been against the pack ever since they first noted their dislike of how Stiles was now. It was causing friction that Boyd didn't like.

"He's part of this Pack! He should be here!"

"Erica, listen. We don't know what's wrong with Stiles, but he's not himself," Isaac said. Alison was sitting next to Scott, who was thinking intensely. The afternoon that he'd spent with Stiles had been good. He'd almost thought that Stiles was back, the real Stiles. But, he could still tell something wasn't right about him. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Stiles wasn't Stiles anymore. He'd changed.

"I can't believe you guys. Stiles had been kidnapped. They probably messed him up a bit, he forgot because he couldn't handle it. We should be helping him, not talking about him behind his back,"

"No. If it's for the safety of the Pack, we do what we have to," Lydia said.

"Yeah, only when it's about Stiles or Scott. But Jackson…" Erica retorted. Lydia slit her eyes at the wolf. Erica bared her teeth. Boyd quickly stepped in between the two girls.

"Listen to me. Both of you," he yelled, "Stiles isn't who we think he is. We all know that. Even you Erica, as much as you deny it. Now, I say we try to make sense of his story. Scott, he came around this afternoon, what did he say?"

Scott looked up from his hands, which Alison had been affectionately stroking. "I don't know, he seemed pretty much normal,"

"That's not what you said last time," Isaac said.

"_Just_, _tell_ us what happened when he came over," Lydia said, forcing her words out violently. She wanted to be in control of this situation, she didn't like being told otherwise.

"Ok, so, Stiles' came round. And it was normal. He told me that he and Adi went into the woods at lunch and that they found something. Adi did. There were cigarette butts on the forest floor, and apparently she could smell Axe,"

"How? She's human, at least, I think she is… right?" Lydia asked

"Obviously not," Boyd said. The room went silent, each persons breath the only indication of life. Each pack member was deep in thought, trying to come to terms with whatever it was that was happening to Stiles. Who was this Adeleide chick? What was wrong with Stiles? Was it connected to the possible vampire? What the fuck was happening!

* * *

Stiles could taste it in the air. Fear. It vibrated off the animal like shock waves, hitting him, leading him towards it. His fangs were extended, his eyes blood red. His body was pumping, shaking with the lust of the kill. He turned left, then right, dodging trees. It was ahead of him, he could smell it. Thick in the air; the stench of wet fur, trekked mud and grass. A deer, just one, lead astray from it's herd by his movements. Suddenly, it was in front of him. He jumped, and landed heavily on it, knocking its feet from under itself. He sunk his teeth deep within the vein, and pulled up the red liquid he craved. It ran, hot and heavy, over his tongue and down his throat. His body heaved and arched, in complete awe of how delicious the animal tasted. It rolled over his tongue, staining his lips and teeth. Lines, thick as arteries, dribbled down his face, catching at his chin, and fell to the ground. The animal made little noise and little movement. The venom within his teeth leaking through it's system quickly, calming it's heart, closing it's windpipe, causing it to sleep. Stiles pulled away quickly, and wiped his face. A smile, though he didn't know it, evil and menacing, lay on his face. He was so happy. Powerful. Free. Nothing could stop him. Nothing.

* * *

"Morning Dad," Stiles said, pouring his dad a cup of coffee. His father had just come into the kitchen; hand on his head, vowing to never drink again.

"You really need to stop this, Dad, _Dad, _are you even listening to me?!"

"I don't need another lecture from my son, Stiles. Not this morning." Stiles shut his mouth, and pushed a plate of freshly made scrambled eggs towards his now sitting father.

"Thanks," Mr. Stilinski grumbled. He chugged down his cup of coffee, and went to grab the newspaper form Stiles. Stiles was holding it away from him, looking at his Dad worriedly.

"What now?" Mr. Stilinski groaned.

"Why aren't you at work?"

"Because I don't work anymore,"

"What do you mean?"

"I was taken off the task force. They have my badge and everything,"

"What! Why Dad?" Stiles shouted. He slammed the newspaper on the kitchen bench hard, causing a dramatically loud slam.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Why Dad? Why did they take your badge?"

"It's just a suspension, until I sorted out my drinking, not a big deal, alright." His father said it into his eggs, unable to look at his son. His drinking had never been good, but now it was very, very bad. Ever since Stiles left, he hadn't been able to control it. And when he'd turned up to the office more than two times off his face, they asked him to step down from Sherriff. He thought of it as a permanent suspension.

"You need to get your job back, Dad,"

"Yeah, why? Who needs those guys anyway?"

"They need you. This town needs you. Dad, you can't give up like this. I'm back, alright. I'm back, and I'm not going anywhere,"

"Don't you do that,"

"Do what?" Stiles genuinely had no idea what his father was talking about. Maybe he wasn't sober?

"Don't lie to my face! I know you Stiles! I know you're out there, in the middle of the night, doing god-knows-what, probably with that Adi girl too. Don't lie to me. You're not back. Not really!" Stiles was gob-smacked. He had had no idea that his father, well, knew. He'd thought he'd been sly about leaving, sly about turning up again.

_Shit_.

"What's happened to you Stiles?" his dad asked.

"I can't… I can't tell you…"

"What?" His father suddenly looked up at him, realizing that it wasn't what he had expected his son to say. Was he admitting that he was different?

"You just, you can't know. Alright… you'd never understand. You don't want to understand,"

"What the hell are you on about Stiles?"

"Just. Nothing Dad. Nothing." Stiles turned, and grabbed his bag from the table.

"I'll see you after school," he finished, slinging it over his back. He ran from the house, jumping into his car and driving as fast as he could to school.

Stiles was furiously driving to school, eyes focused on the road, when Adi suddenly appeared next to him. It was like static, the radio crackled, then a sort of hot buzz overwhelmed Stiles, and next thing he knew, Adi was sitting next to him.

"Woah! Holy shit, Adi!" he yelled, swerving slightly. She'd completely caught him off guard.

"Oh. Woops,"

"Woops alright. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Are you ok Stiles?" Adi asked. She was sitting cross legged on the passenger seat, Tonks curled up in her lap. Her eyes were piercing into him.

_Whats Wrong_

"Fuck off Adi. Not now,"

"Stiles. Talk to me." Stiles caught his reflection in the rear-view mirror; eyes blood red, fangs digging into his lips. His nails were long, black and sharp, puncturing the steering wheel.

"It's my Dad, alright?! He's fucking lost it,"

"It will get better,"

"You keep saying that Adi, but so far, it's only become worse." She just sat next to him silently, until he pulled up at his school.

"Listen, Adi. I'm sorry for shouting. But, this is just, it's so, so fucked up right now. I don't…. I don't know what to do,"

"You go to school. You learn things. You have friends and family. You help get your Dad off the drink, and back at his work. And when everyone graduates, you'll leave it all behind, and meet new people, and travel the world forever, finding out new things, and having new experiences, and falling in love. I'll always be here, when you need me, ok? I will always be here." She was holding onto his hands, channeling some sort of power through him, making him look her in the eyes.

"Do you believe me? Stiles, do you?"

"I do. I'm just, a little, ah, overwhelmed, at the moment,"

"You just need to get through today. What's the worst that could happen?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Stiles was sitting next to Isaac in Statistics. The teacher was droning on and on, so both teens were doodling on their refill, not concentrating at the least. The classroom was cast in a soft grey, the morning still not yet fully awake. The first class of the day was draining any energy Stiles had, especially after what had happened between him and his father that morning. The teachers voice just seemed to drone on and on, echoing it's boring, blood curdling nonsense around him. He couldn't quite believe Adi had managed to convince him to go to school. She'd been so intense in the car just twenty minutes prior. Something was up with her. She wasn't acting like herself recently. She seemed almost, off-kilter. Unstitched.  
Just add it to the list of things I have to worry about

"How's your dad?" Isaac whispered next to him. Stiles just shook his head in reply.  
"That bad, huh?"  
The teachers voice went on in the background, buzzing around like a fly or mosquito. If only Stiles could squish him between his fingers too.  
Better not, apparently that's considered murder these days, he smiled to himself.  
"I heard he hasn't been at work a lot," Isaac pushed.  
"Yeah, he got fired." Isaac feigned shock. He'd known. Even though everyone had quieted it, it was almost common knowledge now.  
"Shit, when? I thought he was just suspended, because you were missing and all. 'Time off' type of thing"  
"Back when I was gone. His, ah… he's a drunk," Stiles muttered.  
"Welcome to the club," Isaac replied, crossing out the eyes on the sketch he'd drawn. Stiles looked over to find Isaac violently dissecting a rubbish-looking Dracula. It was a little thing and looked more like the Muppets 'Count' than anything else, but Stiles knew what it was all the same. And Isaac was happily scratching 'cut' lines all over it. First it's eyes, then it's neck. Next he drew a very cartoonish stake through its heart.  
Wonderful, just mother fucking wonderful,

"Boys! Are you even paying attention?" The teacher suddenly asked. Both Stiles and Isaac looked up from their desks. Was he talking to them?  
"Yes, you two, at the back. Ah, Lahey… and Stilinski. Only your first week back and already you're misbehaving. Not a good start is it?"  
"Nope, I guess not," Stiles replied.  
"Are you giving me cheek boy?" The teacher asked, striding over to Stiles desk.  
"Not that I'm aware of, sir,"  
"Better not, or else I"ll be sending you straight to the principals office,"  
"Right-o, sir-yes, sir!" Stiles joked. Isaac hid a grin under his folded arms. Whatever had happened to Stiles, Isaac wasn't too sure it was an all out bad thing. This version of Stiles had confidence. He seemed, well, almost fun. And not that Stiles wasn't fun of course, but, instead of funny-fun, he was rebellious fun. Isaac could get used to this.  
"If I hear a peep out of you two, I'll be separating you." Stiles just rolled his eyes, and guiltily smiled over at Isaac. Isaac grinned back.

The end of class couldn't have come sooner. Stiles was in no way in the mood for school, which made leaving with Isaac all the more easier.  
"You heard about the festival that's coming round today?" Isaac had asked on their way to homeroom. Stiles and he had been walking together, taking the longest route possible.  
"Nope, what is it?"  
"A few bands are putting on a free show, raising awareness about polar bears or something. They're setting everything up now. I thought it could be cool to go check it out. Want to come along?"  
"Anything's better than school right now," Stiles said. That would be second time that week that he had ditched school.  
Oh well, my fathers a drunk and I've had a 'brain injury' surely they'll give me some slack.  
Both boys quickly turned on their heels and headed for the school gates. They used Stiles' Jeep, as Isaac still didn't have a car. 'Saving up for one though,' he'd said, after he spent $20 on carnival games.  
The festival had come along, setting up one main concert stage, and many different carnival rides. There was a ferris-wheel and go-cart ring, and a whole lot of games; the Basketball Shoot, Ring Toss, Balloon Dart Throw. The bands were lazily practicing on the stage, doing sound checks and running through what sets they would play.  
"How has everything been with the Pack since I've been gone?" Stiles asked, walking next to Isaac. They were casually strolling through the array of pop-up stalls, seeing if there was anything of interest.  
"Oh, you know, manic,"  
"Really?"  
"What did you expect Stiles? Derek left, then you left, so we were kind of in a ditch. We had no idea where you both were. Scott went almost comatose with worry about it. The Pack kind of fell to pieces, to be honest. We managed to pull together in the end, what with the new Sheriff and all,"  
"Who is he anyway?" Stiles asked, his voice bordering on angry. This was the man who had taken his father's job, even replaced Derek and himself within the Pack, it seemed. Stiles couldn't help but be riddled with jealously and anger. Now that he was back, he was going to do as much as he could to make everything go back to normal. Or at least as normal as he could get it.  
"Oh, didn't you know?" Isaac asked. He desperately wanted to ask Stiles about his time away, about what had happened to him, who Adi truly was. It was the only reason he'd brought up the stupid festival, and asked Stiles to come along. He now had the chance to talk, to gain back the friendship they'd had, at least, until he knew what was wrong with Stiles. This was his only way to protect the Pack, the only family he has left.  
"I don't know much these days Isaac," Stiles replied jokingly, stopping by a tree to relax under the shade. Even though Adi's spell had been powerful, the glare of the sun still caused him a little distress. It occasionally made him feel ill, a sick unnerving feeling sitting at the bottom of his stomach. It only ever happened when the sun was bright and strong in the sky, and since Stiles spent most of his time indoors anyway, it wouldn't be that much of a hassle.  
"Peter Hale is the new Sheriff," Isaac said, stopping next to him. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and placed one in his mouth. Memories of his father came to mind 'If I ever see you smoking again, I'll beat you until you cough up your own lungs. Am I understood! Isaac, look at me!'

"Peter!" Stiles yelled out. He couldn't believe it. Peter Hale; unstable, unreliable, manipulative Peter Hale was the Sheriff.  
"Yeah," Isaac replied, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. He offered one to Stiles, who refused, "It was weird at first, but we managed to get used to it. The vampire attacks meant that no one within the police knew how to handle the investigations, and then Peter comes along and wham! He's made Sheriff. He's been really good at it too." Stiles didn't even bother answering. Peter might know where Derek is. If only he could see him again, just once. He needed to know why he left, if it had been his fault. His heart twitched slightly, twisting in on itself within his chest. When would it stop hurting!

"Are you okay?" Isaac asked, looking over at Stiles. His face was downcast, and he was breathing deeply.  
"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, smiling.

'Break it down and then break it up again  
Me and my guitar drowning down and down  
Not even the pain kicks in  
Tell me when the pain kicks in'

Get Away by Yuck sung out suddenly from Isaac's pocket. He pulled his cigarette from his mouth, and dangled it dangerously in-between his fingers as he pulled his phone out. He slid his finger across the screen, accepting the call, and brought it up to his ear.  
"Hey Scott… We're at the festival thing, in town… Nah, we couldn't be bothered with school… Why don't you guys come down too, there's music and games… after this period? Alright. Where should we meet- ok, by the stage. Sweet, see you soon." Isaac then lowered the phone from his ear, and placed it back in his pocket. He took another heavy drag from the cigarette, and looked over at Stiles.  
"So, everyone's coming down soon?" Stiles asked, looking out at the festival. Isaac could see that his eyes were slightly bloodshot, and his skin appeared taut, tight over his body.  
"Yeah, they'll be here in twenty minutes or so. Scott has to get through English first,"  
"Right," Stiles replied. His mind was elsewhere. They made quiet, simple conversation, till Isaac looked at the time and decided they should walk over to the stage.

"You ok, Stiles? You look kind of sick," Isaac asked as they walked back to the stage.  
"Yeah, I'm alright. Don't worry,"  
"Has Adi been around lately? How is she?"  
"Adi, oh, she's… actually, she's not too great right now. I don't know what's up with her, but she's a little, different. I think something's on her mind, but I'm not too sure what... I guess I'll have to talk to her about it later, see what's up," Stiles replied. His face was downcast, avoiding Isaac's eyes. He looked troubled, sick with worry. Isaac didn't like that look on Stiles, he was the fun, relaxed one. He wasn't allowed to be worried or sad. Isaac never really realized it, but Stiles had a major influence on everyone in the Pack. He really was the glue that held them all together, and when he's upset, everyone else tends to go that way too.  
"You know, you never really did say how you guys met," Isaac asked, as the two reached the stage. They leaned against one of the pillars, relaxing in the shade.  
"Adi and I? Well, she helped me escape. We were in this, van, and I woke up, gagged and all. She was looking over me. God, that gave me the fright of my life. Anyway, she helped me get out, and then, yeah. We just ran for it. Found out a few days later that we'd been gone for months. She's an orphan, she'd been living on the streets, so she decided to come along home with me, and I guess that's kind of it all, without detail,"  
"She's a good friend? Can we trust her?" Isaac asked, keeping his eyes on Stiles. Isaac never for one second believed the details of Stiles escaping, but, he could tell that there was some truth lying behind the bullshit he was saying. What Isaac really wanted to know was if Adeleide was supernatural. He had to know if she was dangerous.  
"Adi? I ah, well… I would trust her with my life," Stiles said, looking off towards the Hale Forest, "She saved me, you know. She saved me from myself… or some other sappy stuff like that," he finished, as if pulling himself from a deep thought. He suddenly looked ahead of himself, towards the car park.  
"They're here," Stiles said.  
"What, where? I can't see them,"  
"Over there," Stiles said, pointing. And sure enough, the Pack emerged from two cars; Alisons and Boyds, and began walking towards them.  
'Stiles must have sharp eyes to have seen them. Even I couldn't point them out,'  
Isaac thought. His mind was quickly drawn to the Pack, pushing his previous ideas to the back of his head.  
Erica happily bounced over to Stiles, and gave him a joyous hug. He smiled under her bushy hair, and hugged her tightly back.  
"I can't believe you're skiving off again!" Scott said with a smile.  
"You're a bad influence on me," Stiles replied. Alison was on Scotts arm, a smile spread across her face. Boyd was looking around the festival, checking out the games. Everyone was here, surrounding Stiles, and for the first time in a while he felt at peace.

* * *

"Hey! That looks cool, c'mon Scott!" Alison said, pulling Scott over to a stall. It was advertising ball-toss, where you had to knock over the bottles on a ledge from far away with a ball. Large, stuffed fluffy toys lined the stalls walls, and happy looking clown cut-outs rimmed the red and white stall.  
"How much?" Scott asked the boy behind the counter. He was a short guy, with curly ginger hair and a pale face.  
"Five dollars," he replied. He was reading a comic to the left of the stall, completely uninterested.  
"Go on then, win me something!" Alison said, almost jumping up and down. She was having the time of her life here, surrounded by her friends, with Scott. As he stared at Alison, Scott became suddenly overwhelmed with his love for her. She was beautiful. Her smile lit up the world around her. Her hair, like flowing silk, framed her beautiful face and caressed her shoulders. Her features were crisp, strong, yet soft and loving. She had a spirit of a wild thing, never settling, but overwhelmingly addictive. He loved her with every inch of his being. He'd do anything to make her happy. Anything at all.

"Sure. Here you go," Scott replied, handing over $5. Alison kissed his cheek, but he quickly turned his head, catching it on his mouth. Her lips were like petals, she tasted like honey and smelt like roses. He would never get over her. She was intoxicating.  
"Do you want to play, or just pay me to watch you make out?" the kid asked, unamused by their BDA.  
Scott smiled under the kiss, then turned his head, grabbing the 5 balls from the boy across the counter. He grinned, aimed, and hit down the first bottle. Then the next. And the next. And the next. And, finally, when the kid couldn't believe what he was seeing, the last bottle remaining on the stand.  
"Holy shit," the kid said, his mouth agape. No one had won anything is ages. Not because they didn't try, but because two out of the five bottles were glued to the shelf. No one could knock them down, at least, unless they were really, really strong.  
"So, what did I win?" Scott asked, pulling Alison close to him, wrapping his arm around her waist. The boy stood there for a second, then turned around, and reached for a massive, bright pink teddy bear. It was about the size of Alison herself, and sat at the back of the stall.  
'Shit, Bob'll have to buy a new one. These things cost hundreds...' he thought, as he pulled it out of the pile of crappy soft toys. Sluggishly, he lugged it over to Scott, rested it on the counter, and smiled weakly. He was going to be in deep shit with his boss when he got back later that night.

"For you," Scott said, grabbing the teddy from the counter and giving it to Alison. Her eyes lit up, and her smile reached all the way to her ears.  
"Thanks," She said seductively, pushing the teddy aside, and wrapping her arms around his back. She leaned in close, and pressed her lips to his. He clasped her body to his tightly, hoping the moment would never end.  
"We should find the others," Alison said, pulling away from him slowly. Her arms were still around him, their foreheads resting against one another's.  
"Really? Do we have to?" Scott asked, leaning back in, placing another hot kiss upon her lips.  
"Yes, we do!" She replied, accepting the kiss, but keeping it short. She then pulled away (not quick enough to stop Scott pecking her nose) and, holding the teddy under her arm clumsily, pulled Scott along by his hand, weaving their way through the mass of people.

* * *

The day was on it's way out, the evening sun casting an amber glaze across the world, as if it was caramelized, soaked in a calming haze of beauty and ease. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Lydia and Stiles were walking through the throng of people. The festival had erupted within the last half hour, and was now riddled with families, prams, gangs of teenagers, and unhappy screaming children. Fairy lights were twinkling in the sky, strung from one stall to another, and soft, soothing live music was being played from the stage. Boyd walked by Erica, his shoulders no longer taut, completely relaxed. Isaac was next to Lydia, who found no need to stop talking about her help with the investigation into Jackson's' whereabouts. Stiles was making quiet, dulled conversation with Erica; talking about the music, and what they would prefer to hear.  
"Yeah, well I like it," Erica retorted. Her frizzy hair was twirled around her face, messily springing up at all sorts of angles. Her lips were a rich red, her eyes lined with thick eyeliner. She was wearing a pair of Doc Martins, with wine red velvet leggings, a loose black singlet and black leather jacket. Stiles couldn't help but acknowledge how incredible she looked. Her eyes held so much of her personality; they would slant when she was angrily questioning, then open wide with shock. When she smiled, wrinkles would gather around them, causing them to shine. Even though Stiles would never truly love her; his heart still belonged to one sad, sour wolf, if he could, he would take her in an instant.

"What! It's sooo boring! Have you even been listening? Are we listening to the same band?" Stiles asked, putting emphasis on certain words, knowing what his original self would have done. Erica turned, her hair flying, an argument hot on her tongue.  
"They're good! He has a good voice, and their lyrics are amazing,"  
"What! I'm now 100% certain we're listening to different bands. The noises in your head still there?" Stiles teased.  
"Shut up! They so are good!"  
"They're quiet, and dull, and boring, and horrid and I wish I could make them stop." Erica, outraged, turned towards Isaac, pulling on his arm, bringing him into the conversation.  
"Isaac, these guys are good right?" She pleaded.  
"Um, these guys? They're alright, I guess,"  
"HA!" Stiles yelled. Erica dropped her jaw, and turned on Stiles, claiming Isaac didn't count because his taste in music was terrible anyway. Isaac furrowed his brow, readying a counter-argument.  
"No it is not. I have a brilliant taste in music,"  
"Whatever. You listen to weird stuff... what was that band again, 'We Are Trees'? I mean, who names themselves that,"  
"Doesn't mean it's bad music," Isaac retorted. Erica suddenly plunged her hand into Isaac pocket, and pulled out his iPod Classic. She began to scroll,  
"Acid Baby Jesus?! Seriously? This proves that your music taste is void,"  
"Yeah, well you listen to break-up, re-run bands. The Smiths? The Ramones? It's all old crap." Erica looked out right offended.  
"They are amazing! If I ever hear you diss The Smiths again, I will physically abuse you,"  
"I'd like to see you try!" Isaac said.

Stiles had found himself listening in on the conversation, strolling next to Lydia and Boyd. He was just about to ask Lydia about Jackson, when Erica turned around in front of him, grabbed both him and Boyd, and dragged them through the crowd to the ferris-wheel. It wasn't too small, but it wasn't that big either.  
"Nu-uh. I'm not going on that thing," Boyd said. Erica did her puppy eyes, said 'please,' once, and Boyd gave in. Stiles, however, believed he had more self control than that.  
"Come ooon Stiles. It's just a ferris-wheel!" Erica said, looking from him to the brightly lit up, spinning contraption.  
"Does that look at all stable to you? Nope, I didn't think so. I'll sit this one out, thanks,"  
"Don't be a party-pooper Stiles, come on," Boyd said, like it was a fact.  
"I'm not a party pooper! Not once have I pooped at any party that I have been too. I do not deserve that title." Erica rolled her eyes, then looked towards the man ushering tickets. Suddenly, she was pulling Stiles along towards him.  
"Three tickets please," She said. Stiles was about to say no, but within a second, she had them in her hand. Boyd quickly handed over the money, and, almost kicking and screaming, dragged Stiles onto the spinning circle of death. Now, Stiles would never admit to being paranoid, but, he was paranoid. He always thought of the worst possible situations, which, back in the day, didn't help his anxiety and panic attack episodes.  
"It'll be fun! Just think of the view!" Erica said, strapping Stiles in with the metal bar. She sat next to Stiles, and Boyd sat opposite them.  
"Alright, off we go!" Stiles heard the usher say, and then there was a slight click, and the dingy little metal open box lurched off the ground, and began to ascend into the air. Erica looked out the side of the box, Boyd was smiling, looking at Stiles reaction, whilst Stiles clung tightly to the bar holding him in place.  
Get a grip, Stiles... it's not like you can die or anything. Stiles outright laughed at his own thought, and, realizing how pathetic he'd been, let go of the bar. He noticed Boyd smiling at him, so he smiled back. They looked at the excited Erica next to them. She was like a happy puppy, completely out of control, energetic and full of smiles. Both boys looked out at the view. The sun was just setting, casting it's beautiful, blinding light over the hills that surrounded the town. Stiles could look out, see the festival below him, the hords of people mingling and laughing and living. The houses that spread off into the distance, his school, his car, his home. The Hale forest. This was his place. This was his home. He wasn't going to let some new vampire take it from him.

* * *

Stiles found himself riding around on bumper cars next, seated next to Alison. The sun had set an hour or so ago, and both teens were joyously driving around the makeshift barriered off grounds.  
"Over there!" Alison yelled out, and Stiles turned the wheel quickly, making his way over to Scott. Scott, who was so used to his bike, was, well, worthless in the car. Lydia was angrily giving him instructions, but he had no idea what to do. Stiles made his way over, and rammed the car against Scotts'. They lurched forward, Lydia screamed, and Scott yelled with anger.  
"Seriously!" He yelled, eyes set to kill. Stiles just raised his shoulders, a mischievous grin across his face, and reversed away.  
"Again?" he asked, whispering to Alison. She smiled evilly, and nodded. Stiles quickly turned back into drive, and rammed them again. Suddenly, they were pushed forward, and a hysterically laughing Erica could be heard behind them. Scott, on the other hand, was far from laughing.  
Erica reversed, then went on her way, bumping into as many little kids as possible, being a right menace.  
"We'll get you for that!" Alison yelled out. Stiles made his way away from Scott, who was still positioned in the same spot, and sped up, trying to catch up to Erica. The course was just one large circle, with a high roundabout in the middle. Stiles continued to speed up, taking the corner quickly, making Alison squeal.  
"Holy shit, Stiles, not so fast!"  
"Huh?" he muttered, coming up behind Erica. He turned the wheel, and rammed into her. Erica rammed him back, both pairs laughing. As they rounded the corner again, Scott lay ahead of them, trying to steer, but too afraid to go too fast. Stiles shared a knowing look with Erica, and together, they came up hard and fast to Scott car. They hit into him at almost the exact same time, causing him to go flying off, loose control of the car, and spin. He stopped three meters ahead of the pairs, facing them. The look on both his and Lydia's face was reminiscent of toddler being told he couldn't have some sweets; pure, annoyed anger.  
Just then a loud buzz went off, signally the end of that round. The pairs exited their cars, and walked over to the curb, laughing their heads off. Scott and Lydia followed, a little behind the other four.  
"I didn't know you were so bad at driving, Scott," Boyd said, clapping him on the back.  
"Shut up, it was the car!"  
"Oh, yeah, the car. That's it," Stiles said, laughing along with Erica. Alison wrapped her arm around Scotts back, placing her hand in his back pocket, and kissed his shoulder.  
"You were kind of terrible," She said quietly. Everyone heard her though, and agreed.  
"Oh, just... give me a break. Lydia couldn't drive either!" Scott said.  
"Don't turn this on me! You were the one who couldn't work the damn thing," she yelled back.  
"Do you even have your Learners?" Erica asked.  
"Noo," Scott said in his annoyed voice, looking away in embarrassment. He was steadily losing his patience.  
"Haha, Learners the loser!" Erica suddenly said, pressing her fingers shaped like an L on her forehead.  
"What! No!"  
"Hun, you lost. You know you did," Alison said. Scott looked from her to Erica with pleading eyes.  
"There was another kid there, who couldn't even turn the thing on!"  
"Yeah, but he was ten," Boyd said, smiling broadly.  
They continued to walk on, finding their way to the stall of hot food. Scott, Lydia, Erica and Boyd walked on ahead, Alison just behind them. Stiles found his way a meter or so behind Alison. His head was spinning, his eyesight was suddenly horribly blurred, and a sheen of red covered his view. That's when he heard it. Blood. Pumping through every person around him. Rich, thick, delicious blood, gushing and running through them. So many of them. Surrounding him. He needed it. Wanted it. Desperately.  
He could feel his nails grow within his clenched fists, his fangs drop down into his mouth.  
Stop it! he screamed at himself.

"Stiles? Are you ok?" Alison asked, having stopped, looking at him worriedly. The rest of the Pack was ahead of them, ordering food at a hot dog stall.  
"Yeah, fine. Just, give me a sec," Stiles said, internally screaming.  
"You look like you're going to be sick," She said, walking closer.  
"I think I am. I'm going to go to the bathroom, tell the others. I'll be ok," Stiles said, and ran off as fast as he could. Away from Alison. He knew he wasn't in control, and he couldn't hurt her. Not Alison.  
He found himself cast in shadow, behind a tall stall on the outer end of the festival. He dug his nails into his palms, willing himself to gain control again.

"Aye there, you alright?" someone asked to his right.  
Blood.  
Pumping.  
Right there.  
He could take it...

"Yeah, I'm fine," He said, turning towards her, "You want to come closer. Don't make a noise." She stood straight, as if hypnotised. Slowly, she made her way towards him.  
"That's a good girl. Now, you're not going to say anything. You're not going to move. You're going to forget this, and go home. Understand?" He asked. She nodded. He looked around himself quickly, then pulled her towards him.  
As his fangs extended, he felt an ease wash over him. His true self, his nature, was finally free. He sunk his teeth deep within her neck, the hollow crevasse where the shoulder meets the neck, just above her collarbone. Her skin was pale, dotted with sun moles and light freckles. Her jaw, bold and pale, was cast away from him, up towards the sky, letting him do whatever he wanted.  
Her flesh was chewy. It pressed against his mouth, fatty and smooth. Then, there it was. The hot, red, liquid he desired. It ran down from her neck, landing on his tongue. He moaned, unable to contain his joy. The blood flowed down his throat, landing within his empty stomach. He pressed into her, pulling her closer to him, taking as much as he could.

"Stiles?" His eyes flicked up, blood red, towards the person who had said his name.

Alison.

* * *

"Oh my god! What. I don't, understand," She said. She was short of breath, her chest was closing in on itself. Stiles. He was. A vampire?  
Stiles let go of the girl quickly, and wiped his mouth. The girl fell to the floor, limp, knocked out. He'd taken too much. But that didn't matter right now. Alison was there, looking at him. She's seen it. His secret was out.  
"Alison," He said, approaching her slowly. He was still in his vampire state, his voice was too calm, too honey sweet. It wasn't him.  
"Don't! Don't come any closer. I'll, I'll scream,"  
"Please, Alison.. Just, listen to me. Hear me out,"  
"What have you done with Stiles! Where is he!" She shouted. This wasn't him. This couldn't be him. Stiles was kind. He wasn't some blood drinking monster. It couldn't be him, could it?

"Alison. Please!" he pleaded. His voice was strained, his arm was outstretched towards her. His eyes had turned back to their chocolatey brown, and were desperate. They were crying out to her.  
"Please Alison!"  
She looked at him, and lowered her hands to her sides. She hadn't realized that she'd pulled them up to her mouth, overcome by shock.  
"You can't, you can't know. This, this wasn't supposed to happ- oh god what have I done," Stiles said, suddenly falling to his knees. He had no energy left. If the earth could swallow him now, he wouldn't care. He deserved it. Tears ran from his eyes, and sobs soaked with despair and anguish left his body.  
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," he sobbed, holding his head in his hands. He was leaning on his knees, rocking ever so slightly.  
Alison stood for a few seconds looking over Stiles. Vampire Stiles. But she just couldn't leave him there. Suddenly, she was on the floor next to him, holding him close. She rocked along with him, shushing him, praying that he didn't turn on her.

"I'm so sorry Alison. I'm so sorry. I should have. I should have told you- you and Scott. And everyone. But. I just. I can't. This... it's just. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" He yelled, hitting his head, trying to make it all go away. Alison had seen this before. She'd seen her father react the same way, after a day where everything had gone wrong. She knew what a break down was. And Stiles was having one, right there, and she couldn't do anything to stop it. She felt completely helpless.  
They sat in the dark corner, holding each other, for a good five minutes, until Alison pulled away from Stiles. She looked at his face, stained with tears. Blood still sat in the corners of his mouth, and was wiped messily over his hand. But it was Stiles. It wasn't a monster. He was Stiles.

* * *

"Who knows?" She asked. Stiles was leaning against the stalls' back, head resting against his knees. He was staring into his lap, avoiding eye contact. The girl had stood up a few minutes ago, as if nothing had happened, told them she was going home, and left. Alison just nodded, a hard look on her face.  
"No one,"  
"Your Dad?"  
"Nope,"  
"Adeleide must,"  
"Yeah, she does. She helped me, when, it was new..."  
"I guessed as much. So, the kidnapping story was a lie,"  
"I couldn't just come out and tell you, alright!" Stiles yelled. He quickly put his head back to his knees, and began to press his hands to his ears, mumbling shut up, shut up, shut up to himself.  
"Stiles. Stop it. Just look at me," Alison said. He wouldn't. He started hitting his head, his mumbling becoming shouts. Tears once more ran down his face. Alison got on her knees and moved towards him. She grabbed his arms, and when she realized he was hellishly strong, she pierced her nails into his skin. He shot his head up, and looked at her. He was broken. Completely broken.  
"Stiles, I'm... I'm not going to tell anyone. This is something that only you can tell. But, I think you should tell your father,"  
"What? Why!" Stiles said.  
"He deserves to know the truth. You are his son,"  
"I can't. I just, I can't," Stiles replied, pulling away from Alison. He continued to look at her though.  
"Why not?" she asked. Her legs were resting on his, her hands had fallen into his, and she was squeezing them tightly. His shied his eyes, and looked at the ground.  
"Because, I... I can't. I need to, I don't know... protect him from this. This, sick, horrible thing. This world."  
Alison gave his hands a tug, drawing his attention back to her.  
"He deserves to know, Stiles. You know he does. He is your father. He should know,"  
"I know. I know... I don't know how though. How can I go and break him into this world. How do I tell him that I'm a vampire, that Derek, Scott, they're all werewolves. That Jackson was a Kanima. How the hell do I say that? To my own father?"  
"I'll go with you," Alison suddenly said, before she even knew she was speaking.  
"You, what?"  
"I'll go with you. I'll be there, and I'll back you up. You have to tell him, Stiles. You have to."

* * *

Alison called Scott, telling him Stiles had been sick and she was taking him home. Scott told her to be safe when driving, and that he hoped Stiles felt better, then hung up. Alison walked slowly to Stiles Jeep, shoulders nearly touching Stiles but never actually coming in contact. She drove him home. He stood at his front door, knowing what was about to happen. He was going to do this. To his own father.

He opened the door, and walked inside. Alison followed closely behind. She quickly slid her hand into his, and squeezed it tightly.  
"Dad?" Stiles called out, his voice hoarse.  
"Yeah, over here," Mr. Stilinski yelled out. He was in the lounge. Stiles made his way through his house, walking as if he had the world on his shoulders. The air seemed thick, it clogged in his windpipe, causing him to grind his teeth together. He didn't need to breath, but that didn't change the feeling of your chest caving in from being panic-attack painful.  
He reached the lounge, finding his father sitting on the couch, papers strewn across the coffee table, a glass of scotch at his side. They were police reports about the murder and animal attacks.  
"Dad. I, need to... to tell you something," he said, his voice catching in his throat. He walked over to the couch, and sat down. Then stood up. Alison sat down, and looked at him, making him choose to sit down again. He tried to say it, thinking over the best way to reveal it all. He stood up again, impatient at his own cowardice.  
"Stiles? I don't really have time for this. Just, tell me what you want to say," his Dad said, looking up at him. Stiles paced a little, his hands motioning in the air like he was talking, then coming up to his head as if discarding it.  
"Stiles!" His father said.**  
"I'm a vampire." **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

His father looked up at him, eyes wide. And burst out laughing.  
"Right, and I'm the president of the United States. Listen, Stiles, I'm not in the mood for this, alright? Go to bed or somethin',"  
"Dad. I'm not joking. I'm a vampire. Scott's a werewolf, Derek's a werewolf... Boyd, Erica, Isaac, all werewolves,"  
"I guess Alison here's one too then,"  
"Ah, no... Normal teenage girl... well, if you exclude the werewolf hunting heritage... of my family," Alison replied, trailing off at the end due to Mr. Stilinski's face.  
Stiles sat down on the couch, and looked intensely at his father. The smile left Mr. Stilinski's face, and was replaced by a look of anger.  
"Listen you two, I'm working. Stop messing about,"  
"Dad..." Stiles said. His father looked at him dead on. And Stiles did it. He let the blood red flow through his eyes, his nails to grow long, black and sharp, and, as he opened his jaw, his fangs to extend. Mr. Stilinski threw himself back in his chair, making it fall over, and him to tumble back with it. Alison was on her feet, as was Stiles. He sped over to his father, pulling him up from the ground.  
"Get off me!" his Dad yelled, pushing Stiles away. Stiles took a step back, and held his hands up. His eyes melted away to their natural hue, his nails shortened to their normal bitten down stumps, and his fangs sank back into his mouth.  
"I'm sorry that you had to find out like this. But I had to tell you."  
His father just shook his head, fear written across his face.  
" , he's telling you the truth. Scott is a werewolf, and so is Derek. And, Stiles... is a vampire,"  
"What. What kind of game do you two think you're playing at!" Mr. Stilinski shouted. Stiles looked at Alison, pleading.  
"Mr. Stilinski. We're not lying." She said it with such a monotone that it shocked the man. He looked towards Stiles now, as if everything made sense. All the times Stiles looked like he had wanted to say something but couldn't over the last year. Scott acting up. The murders. The attacks. Stiles erratic behavior. His time spent missing. All of it. Everything that had been plaguing the back of his mind for a year, finally, made sense. put his hand to his face, as if trying to rub the shock from himself. His knees buckled, and he leaned back against the wall, and slowly slid down it, till he was on the floor.  
"That's why you were gone," he muttered.  
"Yes," Stiles replied. He looked at his father. After everything that had happened to him, he'd just gone and added another weight on his life. Another fuck up. Because that's all that Stiles did these days, fuck everything up. When would he do something right?  
"I just... I think, I need... some time alone. Could you... just. Just go. Please," His father said, still on the floor.  
"Dad, I'm sorry..." Stiles replied, trying to move forward.  
"Go! Stiles, go," His father yelled. But it wasn't angry. It was defeated. He had no strength left to deal with it. Stiles heart was wrenching itself apart in his chest; he wanted so badly to do something, but he couldn't.  
"Come on, Stiles. You can stay at mine," Alison said, standing next to him. She put her hand on his shoulder, and, steadily, lead him away. As he closed the door, he heard his father cry.

And it broke his heart.

_They were going to do it. She could see it in their eyes. Menacing, angry, evil. They came with pitchforks and fire, ready to destroy everything she loved. She looked down at her cowering sister, holding desperately to her skirts. Little sobs could be heard from under the table, where her brother was hiding. Fray, her older brother, stood by the door with her father, holding it in place, piling chairs and bedding against it, willing the men to leave. But they wouldn't. They would never let them go, not until they had their witch to burn. _  
_She had to do something. She couldn't let her family suffer. _  
_"Don't, Adeleide. Please. Don't," Estrild said. Adi looked down at her sister. Her long ginger hair was pulled back away from her face, twisted into a fishbraid plait. Her bright blue eyes were shining, the light of torches flickering in her iris's. She had a cute button nose, little chubby lips and light brown freckles. She was so young. She didn't understand. None of them did. This was all her fault. She'd caused this. _  
_They were always running, always leaving their home, just to keep her safe. She couldn't take it anymore. Adi looked around her home, now disheveled and ruined. Her mother would be turning in her shallow grave if she saw it now. Her youngest brother cowering under the table, her younger sister clutching to her with fear, her three other younger siblings hiding somewhere in their room. Fray, his face cold, holding back the men who would surely kill them, just because of her. _  
_"You, you be a good girl, alright Esty?" Adeleide said, pushing Estrild off her. The girl screamed, and clung tightly to her skirt, trying to hold her. Adi grabbed the girls clenched fists and pulled her fingers back, breaking the tight grip she held, all the while crying. Fray looked back at her, hearing his sisters scream. He was so beautiful, her entire family was. And she was going to destroy them, all of them, unless she did something. _  
_Frays blue eyes pierced into her soul. His black hair was sodden with sweat, and dried blood caked the side of his face. _  
_"Adi, don't," he said. _  
_"I'm sorry..." she replied. _  
_"ADELEIDE!" He screamed, leaving the door, running for her. She closed her eyes, allowing tears to fall down her face, and then she was gone. The crackling sense of lightening, a dark grey smoke and the taste of bile in the air was all that was left. Fray fell to the floor where she had stood, screaming her name. Estrild ran to her brother, Albin, under the table. Adeleide's father stood by the door. He didn't move for hours, even after the screaming outside began. And after it stopped._

"Morning sunshine," Alison said, standing over Stiles. He'd slept on the couch downstairs. And by 'slept' he meant had nightmares, resulting in his failure to sleep. Instead he just stared up at the ceiling all night. He faked a yawn, stretched out his arms, then sat up, clutching the blanket to himself.  
"I can make you some breakfast, if you want," Alison asked. She was leaning against the couch, looking down at him.  
"I don't eat," he replied. He leaned forward and pushed his fingers through his long hair angrilly. Everything that had happened the night before was still burning at the front of his mind. When he closed his eyes, he saw his fathers face; devastated, angry, unforgiving. Helpless. He's done that to his own father, his only flesh and blood left. Stiles couldn't be bothered even trying to pretend that he was human. He wasn't. He was a monster. And Alison knew, and whatever he did didn't matter. His own father didn't want him. Why even bother?  
"Are you feeling ill?" Alison asked, worry spread across her face. Stiles didn't look up at her though, he continued to rub his face, trying desperately to rid the night before from his memory.  
"No. I mean I do not eat. Nada. Nil. Zil. Zero... not since I was turned,"  
"What?" Alison replied, taking a seat next to him. She shook her head and smiled. Stiles couldn't quite believe how calm she was. She did understand that he could kill her with his hands within a few seconds right?  
"Yes you do. I've seen you eat," She finished.  
"Have you really?" he asked. He didn't look at her; his attention was completely caught up with the painting on the opposite wall. He couldn't look at her. He was too afraid that he'd break all over again if he did.  
"I... I guess not," she said, thinking over the times they'd spent together since he'd been back. Had she ever seen him eat anything? There had been the coffee... but he'd left that. And the first breakfast she cooked him, he'd left that too. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen him eat any lunch at school either.  
"So, when's your father back then?" Stiles asked, changing the subject. He stood up, and stretched out his shoulders and back.  
"Huh? Oh, Dad... He's back next week. Business, you know," She replied. She dreaded him coming home. She loved him, so, so much, but his moods were out of control. She had no idea how he'd be when he got home. She was scared of him. And she hated it.  
"Do you have a mug or something?" He asked, spying his school bag. In the middle of the night he'd called Adi, asking her to get him some more blood bags. She been quick, getting them to him in five minutes or so. He'd shoved them into his backpack, readying for the next day. He was happy he'd done it.  
"Oh, a mug? Yeah, I think I have one. Do you want some water or something?" Alison asked, jumping up from the couch and making her way to the kitchen.  
"'or something'" Stiles replied. Alison just nodded, understanding. She got a mug from the cupboard, and handed it to him.  
"What's the time?" Stiles asked, looking around for a clock.  
"It's 12pm,"  
"But, we have school. You know, Friday doesn't count as a weekend too, or have I been away for too long?" Stiles joked. A forced smile appeared on Alison's face. Even though she loved seeing Stiles like this, she knew it was just a show, something to divert from what was truly killing him.  
"I thought we'd miss today. Maybe watch a movie or something? Talk things through," Alison offered. Stiles just smiled weakly. She was a good friend, he was lucky to have her.  
"And, you know you can stay here over the weekend too? Your Dad might not want you back for a bit, so, you could just stay here, until... then," Alison finished.  
"Right. Thanks." Stiles turned on his heel, and went to get his bag. He brought it back into the kitchen, and looked up at a curious Alison.  
"Are you sure you want to see this?" he asked, about to pull the blood bags out of the lining.  
"I've seen it before. It's not that bad," Alison lied.  
"It's not like on the TV. It's different in real life," Stiles replied, looking at her intensely. He didn't want her to freak out again. She smiled at him confidently, and nodded, saying 'I'll be fine.' So, Stiles pulled a bag out of the lining of his school bag, and, not daring to look at Alison, ripped the top of it off with his nails, and poured it into the mug.  
"Huh... cool," Alison said, seemingly unphased. She was trying really, really hard not to freak out. That was blood. There. Being poured into a mug. In her house. By Stiles. It was going to take her awhile to get used to the idea, but she knew she had to be there for him. She never wanted to see Stiles as he had been the night before. If it was in her power to help him, in any way she could, she would do it.

They walked back to the lounge, Alison carrying a mug of tea, Stiles a mug of blood, and took a seat on the big couch. They sunk down into it, the cushions enveloping them like a cloud. It was the comfiest thing Stiles had ever sat on. Why didn't he sleep on this couch last night?!  
"So, a movie?" Alison asked. She took a little slurp of her tea, winced under the heat, and blew on it slightly.  
"What do you have?" Stiles asked. He was looking around the room, trying to find the DVD collection. Alison stood up beside him, and walked over to a set of wall length cupboards to the left of the TV. She pulled open one of the doors, and inside was the biggest collection of DVDs that Stiles had ever seen. It spanned the wall, and it was full to the brim with movies.  
"Not that much choice is there?" Stiles said sarcastically. Alison just rolled her eyes at him. He stood up too, and walked the wall, seeing if there was anything of interest.

They ended up watching Pitch Perfect. This was in no way Stiles choice. Alison and Stiles walked the wall of movies over ten times, calling out titles but never finding one that both wanted to see. Until Alison yelled out 'Pitch Perfect,' which Stiles replied that he'd never seen before. Alison faked shock, then anger, and said he was watching it, whether he wanted to or not. He'd grimaced slightly. He wasn't really one for chick flicks. Yeah, he liked guys too, didn't mean he wanted to be subjected to the bullshit romances Hollywood popped out these days. He knew, from experience, that they never turned out that way.  
He bit down on his tongue, willing the pain away. He'd never truly be over Derek, he realized. He'd just continue to hurt for the rest of his pathetic, lonely life. And now that it was going to continue on for the rest of eternity, his joy was beyond overwhelming.

"So," Alison began, after they'd watched a good 20 minutes of the movie, "when were you turned?" She pulled out a handful of popcorn, and ate it slowly. Her jaw clicked. Her pajama shorts crinkled against the sofa. Stiles drank again. He'd suppressed his new instincts ever since he'd been turned, wanting desperately to hold onto his humanity. But since last night he didn't really have the strength to do so, resulting in a throbbing headache due to the overly loud noises, bright lights, and intense new smells all around him. He was just waiting for the day to be over, so he could leave Alison, and run and run till his lungs burst out from his chest. That or wait till the sunlight spell wore off. Either way, he didn't want to keep going like this. He couldn't.  
_I can't._  
"Stiles? Hey, are you listening?" Alison asked, tapping his shoulder lightly. His eyes had been locked on the wall behind her. His hand was clasped tightly around his mug; his muscles were clenched as if in pain and blue veins that looked almost black protruded under his fragile, yet extremely strong skin. His eyes snapped back to her, and a weak smile came across his face. For some odd reason, that smile just made her even more worried.  
"You want to know when I was turned? Alright then, let's begin the long and boring story of how Stiles Stilinski became a member of the un-dead club. Derek and I had a fight, and I went over to see him, and he wasn't there. Everything of his was gone. Everything. And I searched, I fucking searched the place till the dust was making my eyes burn and I couldn't breathe. But, low and behold, he'd gone. Without leaving anything, not even a fucking note! Can you believe it! And, well, let's just say I didn't take it very well. I stole a bottle of Jack from my Dad, next thing I know I'm at a house party in the city. After that, it's just pain. A whole lot of pain. It's kind of like a fire burning through your veins, along with every muscle in your body cramping, and your bones breaking. Nice results though," he joked, looking down at himself. Alison blushed slightly, but smiled.  
"Then I woke up, dying from thirst. This isn't like anything you've ever had before. This is a pure, animalistic... need. Yeah, it's a need, not a want or a craving. Oh, ah, sorry," Stiles stopped, realizing Alison was looking at him weirdly. He'd unknowingly let his eyes revert to their blood red colour. Looking down at his hands, he found his nails to have grown out too.

"Why didn't you tell us..." Alison suddenly asked.  
Stiles left the question to linger in the air, trying to find the best way to answer it. The fact was, he didn't really have a good answer.  
"I guess... it was new to me. I didn't know what to expect from you all if I was still getting used to it myself. Um," Do I tell her about the murders? " yeah, it was just new. I didn't know how to deal with it myself. I didn't want to get everyone involved."  
"Alright. That's understandable. But we would have understood. Half of our friends are wolves! I think they would accept a vampire. It'd be racist if we didn't,"  
"Racist? That's a new one,"  
"Shut up, you know what I meant," Then, suddenly, as if Stiles was talking about a new puppy or car he was getting, Alison lit up with excitement, "Tell me everything. What can you do? What rules does a vampire live by? What happens in sunlight? Have you met any others? Is it another vampire here in Beacon Hills? Everything!" she said, pulling her legs up so that she was sitting cross-legged on the couch, staring happily at him. The movie played on in the background.  
"Everything? Alright then. Uhh, I burn up in sunlight. I have to drink blood every day. If I don't, my eyesight fades, I get headaches, I hear blood pumping everywhere I am, and I lose any form of self control I've managed to get over the last two months. When I go vamp I get red eyes, fangs and claws; which you already know. Ah, I can kind of hypnotise people into doing whatever I want. It's harder to hypnotise friends though, as they know you. I can only get it to work on strangers. I don't age. I heal super fast... Oh, I am now crazy strong and I can run fast too, and every living thing out there is afraid of me,"  
"Wait, but you can walk in the sunlight?" Alison asked. She was picking at the remains of the popcorn.  
"Oh, right. Adeleide?" Stiles said, motioning towards the forest haphazardly, "yeah she's a witch. She's connected to the 'other side,' and can channel all sorts of scary demonic energies. She drains the essence of nature around her to gain new powers or abilities. She's also like, over 400 years old. She did this spell, it allows me to walk in the sunlight. The sun can become strong every now and then, and I have to go inside or under the shade. She's going to need to top up the spell every few weeks," Stiles replied. He didn't know if it was his right to tell Alison about Adi, but he needed to explain it to her. She's just badger him about it until he did. It also formed a trust between the two, meaning she was less likely to tell Scott and the Pack. He had many secrets that he had to keep. The Pack couldn't know about him. He wanted to hold onto the only last remains of his normal, human life. And, if he told them about him, he'd have to eventually tell them about the murders.

Adi ran through the forest, trying not to trip on any roots. They were after her. She was going to die. They were getting closer. She could smell them, the rotting stench of fire and fear.  
"Please! Leave me alone! Please!" She screamed behind her. They would be on her in seconds. Suddenly, her foot caught on a root, and she tumbled to the floor. She flipped her body over, screaming, expecting imminent death. The faces of angry men. Pitchforks. Fire. Burning...  
All that she saw was the forest. No men, nothing. She was in the 21st Century. She wasn't back home, with the men who wanted to kill her. She was safe.  
"Get a grip Adeleide. You can't loose it like this, not now," She said to herself. Tonks suddenly appeared by her side.  
"Shut up Tonks. I am not talking to myself. Ok, well, now I am. Leave me alone. No. I do not need your help. I'll be fine. I am fine. Fine." She pulled herself off the ground, and frowned at Tonks, who decided it was the best time to hop on her shoulders.  
"I'm fine, alright. Yes, I've been visiting a lot, but, it's not seeping through. I have everything under control, alright," She told Tonks. The cat just shook its head, then fell asleep on her shoulders.  
Poor Fray, if only I could have stayed. God I miss them. So, so much.

Adeleide made her way back to her tree house. The sun was shining happily through the cracks within the leaves, making a soft dotted pattern dance over the smooth brown branches at her feet. She could have lied in the sun for days, if Stiles hadn't called on her.  
_Do you want to come over? I'm at Alison's house. I ah, I told Dad about me. _  
_Really?! When?_  
_Last night. Are you coming over or what?_  
_Am I Allowed In? _  
_Of course you are. Come on_, and he showed her the way to Allison's house through his memory.  
"I guess I better go then, Stiles needs me," She said to Tonks.  
"No, you don't need to come. Alright, stay here. By yourself. NO! I'm doing it because he's my friend. I said I'd make sure he was ok for Derek, and I'll bloody well do so,"  
_Poor Derek, if only he was here. He'd know what to do_, She thought.

The run to Alison's house wasn't that bad. The world flew by her in a soft grey blur, and soon she was on Alisons' doorstep, knocking. Stiles opened it, a faked smile cast across his face.  
This is going to be harder than I thought, Adi thought. She could feel Tonks chuckling back at the tree house. One day that damn cat would agree with her on something.  
Stiles walked away from the door, and Adi followed. She closed the door behind her, and took in the massive house with opened eyes. The stairwell ran across the front of the entrance, showing the extent of how tall the building was. To the right was the dining room, kitchen and lounge. She was finding it hard to catch up with the normal sizes of houses; the largest house she'd been in when her family had been around was a castle, which was around the same size as this normal, non-royal families home.  
"Hey Adi," Alison said, peering at her from the lounge. Alison was collecting the used mugs, ready to take them to the dishwasher.  
"Would you like any help?" Adi asked, fluttering over. She does this thing where her body almost flies through the air, but as if caught on a skipping disc, causing her figure to jump through space and dart within the same place, like a ghost. She moves quickly doing this though. Alison was a little taken back by Adi's power.  
"Woah. That was unbelievably cool,"  
"Oh, really... Thanks, I guess,"  
"Seriously, how did you do that?"  
"I just moved. I wanted to be over here so I went here... would you like me to take those?" Adi asked, motioning at the mugs that were balancing dangerously on the popcorn bowl.  
"Yes please, follow me to the kitchen." Stiles had been standing by the lounge's entrance, leaning against the wall, watching the two.  
_I wonder how this will play out..._

_

Stiles looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was recently shaved, his usual buzz-cut slightly fluffy. He wore a light blue tartan shirt with a crisp, recently ironed t-shirt underneath. His jeans were baggy on his skinny frame, and his shoes were a pair of new sneakers he'd bought recently. A pile of clothing lay on his bed, and on the floor beside it, having slipped off with the weight. He'd tried everything on in his room, even risked the stuff that smelled. This was the best he was going to get, he knew it, but he still wished he could look a little bit better. If at all possible, maybe even sexy?  
He shook his head, faked a smile at his stupidity, and groaned. He turned quickly from the mirror, and with hands first shielding his eyes from the sun then flailing as he fell, he landed on his bed, face up, surrounded by his exhausted options.  
"It's your third date. C'mon. It's just Derek. He's seen you in everything already. Don't make it such a big deal. It's not a big deal. Not at all..."  
"What's this about Derek?" his Dad suddenly said. Stiles sat up quickly, seeing his father reclining against his open door frame.  
"Whaaa? Ah, nothing. Nope, nothing at all. Where you listening? That's considered rude Dad. I deserve my privacy you know. What with you being a Sheriff I thought you would have known it's against the law to spy on people," Stiles rambled.  
"Haha. Alright son, sorry," The Sheriff said with a smile, hands up in the air. He stepped away from the door, but took one last look at his son before he left. That kid would be the death of him one day, he thought, laughter thick on his tongue.

Stiles pulled himself off his bed, and tried desperately to find anything that was better than what he had on. Nothing. He had absolutely nothing. Nada. Zilch. And boy was he kicking himself for it. He should have got something nice!  
Well done Stiles, it's your third date and already you're a slob.

Suddenly, he heard the purr of Dereks camaro outside. He ran to his window, and looked out at the sleek, black sports car as it parked behind the Sheriff's cruiser. Stiles awkwardly waved down at him, then regretted his decision to wave as it was childish and stupid and he didn't want to look stupid, even though he already did in what he was wearing and anyway, Derek knew him by now, he should be okay with it, but that didn't stop him from feeling like an idiot.  
"Stop it, Stiles, calm down," he told himself, as his head began to race. His stomach was turning in rapid circles within his torso. He felt sick. And not the good kind. Fuck was he nervous.

Stiles realized he'd been standing at the window looking down at Derek for well over two minutes, so he physically pushed himself away from the wooden frame, and ran down the stairs. He passed his Dad, and made some lame undetailed statement about going out with a friend. Next thing he was out the door, and sheepishly looking at Derek as he walked to the car. Derek was standing outside his Camaro, leaning against the passenger door.  
"Hey," Stiles said when he was in hearing distance.  
"Hey, so, I'm thinking back to mine?" Derek asked, opening the passenger door for Stiles. No one else really knew the kindness that Derek could express. They were all used to his snarky, grumpy attitude. Stiles felt like one of the luckiest guys alive to have this other compassionate side of the Alpha.  
"Oh, and..." Derek said, just before Stiles got into the car. Derek suddenly leaned forward, and placed a gentle kiss on Stiles lips. He pulled away smiling.  
Stiles sat in the front seat, his head swooning. Little moments like that made any and every bad mood worth it.  
Derek almost skipped around the front of the car, and bounded into the drivers seat. He shut his door, and started the engine.  
"So," He began to say as he reversed, "I got you present." Derek looked down at the glovebox in front of Stiles.  
"Oh, I didn't, ah, I didn't get you anything. I mean, I didn't know that we had to get something. Is it a birthday. Am I missing something?"  
"Shut up and open the glovebox," Derek said, continuing to drive. Stiles opened the glovebox, and inside was a plastic bag from EB games. He pulled it out tentatively, and shook the containments of the bag onto his lap. Assassins Creed III, Black Ops and DMC came falling out onto his thighs. His jaw dropped.  
"Holy. Mother. Fucking shit! No way! Seriously? Like, seriously seriously!"  
"I also got Cheetos, Mountain Dew, and Zombieland back at my house,"  
"Ahh-jhaa, ha. HA!" Stiles said, completely lost for words. It ended with a weird squeal thing. Stiles didn't care. This was going to be one of the best dates ever.

Stiles sat cross legged on the couch, knees overlapping Derek's. Their heads were craned forward, eyes focused and intense on the game. The Xbox controllers were clicking in their hands, and Stiles mouth twitched with each gun he shot off.  
"Wahhh-ahh! No!" Stiles yelled, jumping back. Someone had just popped up out of nowhere, causing him to die.  
"I told you there was someone there!" Derek yelled, moving along with his Xbox controller. He bent slightly to the side, then the other, weaving his way through the game. Stiles looked at him; the curve of his jaw, the slight prickly stubble that he'd made his trademark. His thickly rimmed eyelashes and his bright eyes, staring so intently at the game. His lips were stretched with tension, but they still managed to curve slightly upwards at the corners.  
"What are you looking at?" Derek suddenly asked. Stiles blinked and shook his head as if shocked, and mumbled some gibberish before saying "What, oh, nothing. Nothing. Zoned out for a bit." Derek was looking at him now, his eyes taking in all of Stiles. He was practically undressing him with his eyes, though he would never admit it. That's when he pounced. He pushed Stiles back into the couch, and surrounded him with his arms. He pressed his lips onto Stiles' and parted them softly with his tongue. At first Stiles was stiff and unsure, but, steadily, he loosened up. Just when he was realizing how much he enjoyed it, Derek pulled away.  
"Ah, out of Cheetos... I'll go get us some dinner,"  
"Uh-ha," Stiles replied.  
"Alright. I, I have something planned... Just, leave it to me, alright?"  
"Yeah yeah yeah. Alright. Can I trust you not to burn the house down?" Stiles bit on his tongue, realizing what he'd just said. Derek was silent for a second, but shook it off. He wasn't going to let something like a slip of the tongue ruin his time with Stiles.  
"Don't worry, once was enough," and he turned on his heel, walking to the kitchen.


End file.
